two hundred and thirty one

Two paths diverged in the campground today as Esme and I walked home from our parking space. “This way, Esme!” I called, as she chose the opposite path from mine.

“I prefer to go my way!” She shouted back as she took off down her path.

“Okay,” I told her, “I’ll meet you at home.”

What choice did I have but to let her go? At four she wants to go her own way, in full sight of my path, to a destination she already knows the way to. At fourteen she’ll be out of my sight. At 24 she’ll choose a path without knowing her destination.

It seems such a small thing, to let her take her own route, knowing well that I can see her the whole way, but it is like practicing scales to a concert pianist. In order to build trust and confidence and skill for the tougher challenges ahead we must start by warming up on these easier ones.

When the decisions and the divergences become bigger and more more weighty, I pray that this practice will have given us a firm foundation of trust and a collection of experiences to look back on. May they help her (and us) to grow and to hone a fierce sense of adventure, tempered with common sense. And may she feel the love that comes in the letting go as well as in the meeting up.