As she teeters on the edge, my grip tightens, desperately. Frantically, I grasp at anything that will keep her from slipping. My struggle seems to slow, like the time I did CPR on my infant brother. Minutes stretch to eternities, and even though I see where she is headed, there is nothing I can do to stop it. I scream inside, I plead, I dangle anything I can to lure her away, but still, she tip-toes, elated to be on the ledge... and it is narrowing. She will fall, soon and there will be nothing I can do but watch... My heart is racing and tears spill, but there is no changing the future.
I hate that it feels like this! Why is this part of my daughter's life so traumatic to me? People do this everyday, but as I type, my throat is closing off and I am shaking and forcing myself to breathe slowly.
K has every opportunity before her. She has worked so hard and deserves every good thing, but I just want to hold her on my lap and rock... hold them all on my lap and rock and read and sing. She has proved herself good and disciplined and faithful. All important, but still, I hold on, too tight. Her world will expand, soon. I see her dreaming and hoping and planning and hope the dreams and hopes and plans all come to be a reality exceeding what she envisions.
For now, I cannot bring myself to pay a housing deposit. I hold on too tight.