One day I will let my little girl go, and she will never look back. I know that. One day my heart won’t sink as she walks away with her head held high as she looks straight ahead towards her dreams and goals with her heart in her hand.

But, oh how I remember that first day. That first day she looked back.

Those large brown eyes turning back around to look back at me. Her hand already letting go of my mine as she turned her curly little head around as if to say,

“Where are you mom? I don’t think I can do this.”

I remember my heart sinking wondering if she could. Will she make it to her class? Will anyone help her? She’s so young. Hey Ms. Teacher, “This is her first time without me. Should I run to the front office and walk her to her room.”

Then I stopped. Took a deep breath, closed my eyes, opened them and out of the corner of my eye saw her little backpack rounding the corner as she made it through the school door. I lifted my head, put the car in drive and ignored the tiny little tear clouding my vision.

I know that my ultimate job is to raise her so that she feels strong, confident and ready. I know that. But sometimes I just don’t want to think about that.

It’s so simple. My job is to let go. My job is to get her ready to never have to

“look back”.

So that one day she doesn’t feel afraid for the unknown. She won’t have to look back to ask if it’s ok.

She won’t have to because she is strong enough to fight through the path ahead and make it on her own . . .

That’s my job. I get it.

But, one day I hope I’m strong and patient enough to sit and watch with a huge smile on my face . . . so that I get to watch my little girl hold her head high, look straight ahead towards her dreams and goals with her heart in her hand . . .

And maybe, just maybe she will remember to turn around for a few seconds and

look back.

Because this momma sure will be watching and waving with a tiny little tear clouding her vision.