My high school senior.

When she was born and breastfeeding every two hours, 24-7, and I couldn’t shower or read the Sunday paper anymore, I’d ask aloud, “when is she going off to college?” 

Now the time is coming and I’m crying in anticipation. 

Driving her to or from school, I hold her hand because I will miss doing this next year. 

This is the year I teach her everything I can before she takes flight. 

It is my job to take her to the mountain top and let her fly. 

Next year, God-willing, she will fly away to a college on the other side of the country. I look forward to watching her do what she came here to do. 

I am proud of the person that God sent me to raise.