parting Soma I clung to him then trembling as a leaf and fearful we'd soon be parted "Forever is only a few months" he said correcting my goodbye. I wanted to be brave. And perhaps I was. But still I couldn't stop from crying. 241003 ... epitome of incomprehensibility Would be easier if the person one loved the most didn't write a couple weeks after leaving for England that he might want to break up. Speaking purely theoretically, indicated by the use of "one" - as in making_one's_toilet. But I don't want to rehash the misery of two_weeks_ago right now. I want to say silly things and then sleep. As one does. 241004 ... ovenbird My daughter is off to a place that isn’t an island, but might as well be. There are no roads through the mountains to get there, so you have to take a boat. She’ll be camping for two nights with her Girl Guide troupe and dropping her off at the ferry terminal tugged hard on the ropes that tether our hearts to each other. I took a picture of her standing there against a backdrop of snowy peaks, a backpack weighing down her small body, a huge duffel bag stuffed with all the essentials at her feet: sleeping bag and thermal layers and snacks and a flashlight. When I turned to leave I found myself hesitating and she hugged me hard and didn’t let go for longer than usual. She’s never been away over night with anyone but family and close friends. This camping adventure is new for both of us and we’re both masters at imagining worst case scenarios. I forced myself to get in the car and turn the key in the ignition and drive an hour back home while singing loudly to keep despair’s pilot light from flaring into a conflagration. She’ll be fine, she’ll be fine, she’ll be fine…and so will I, in time. But these moments of separation always test the limits of my heart. We have children in order to love them, yes, but also in order to let them go. They grow. And nothing will slow the progress towards individuation. I come home to an empty house and the distance is a lasso tightening around my rib cage. She will travel by water and travel by land and stay up too late and sing camp songs and hike in the forest. She’ll slowly build a life of her own that is separate from mine and does not depend upon my presence. The first partings, however temporary, are always hard because they foreshadow the many that are to come. I suddenly recall lyrics from a song by Karine_Polwart: we’re all leaving even the ones who stay behind we’re all leaving in our own time If we are lucky, we leave a trace. Some small imprint on the heart of another, that echoes and whispers and sings. 260123 what's it to you? who go blather from