"He stepped aside and tried to make a few calls. Hugging his daughter and grabbing his head, you could tell he was heartbroken. This woman next to him at the front counter heard the whole thing."
"I don’t remember how sometimes you got angry or cried or had to walk out of the room to take a breath. I don’t remember a schedule, a checklist or any expectations other than just you."
"I will always hold onto the memories. Of the little girl who wore the little clothes. The one who laughed and cried without abandon. The one who never hesitated to wrap her arms around my waist. I will always hold onto that little girl, even when there’s a big girl wrapped in my embrace."
My girl is now the one leaving. And it’s been years since little toes lined up where I now stand, the small fingers that clung to lovies to comfort them as I left.
