Early Spring

by: Rachel Parker

| Published in the Winter 2024 issue of Penstricken Magazine |

In the heavy air of an August morning, I watch my daughter walk away. Her new backpack waves a bright yellow goodbye to me with each step. The school looms ahead: flat and brick. Just moments ago, I held her close, feeling the thrum of her little heart beating against my chest. My own pulse had slowed to match it, a rhythm we’ve shared since before she drew her first breath.

She glances back, soft brown curls framing her mermaid eyes. Her smile wavers, searching my face for reassurance. For a moment, I see her as she once was—red-faced and squalling, thrust into my arms along with the very heart from my chest. I blink, and she's herself again.

My fingers whiten around the car’s grab handle. She is my heart, venturing out into the world, exposed and fragile as a fiddlehead unfurling in early spring. Nothing to shield her from frost or careless feet. This helplessness fills my chest cavity, constricting every breath.

The space between us stretches, impossibly vast. I taste copper, realizing I've bitten the inside of my cheek.

How I long to call her back, to wrap her in my arms. But hearts, like seedlings, can't thrive in confinement. They need sunlight, rain, dirt. They must grow, learn, weather storms, and yes, bear scars.

So I wait, and I watch. Fear trembles through me, yet also a breathless joy. A joy I've already found in "mama" murmured against my neck at bedtime. A joy, bittersweet and sharp, that I'll soon find in school days and later in first dates.

Yes, today is the first of many departures. One day, my daughter will stand on legs made concrete by falls and triumphs, look out through eyes that have seen both beauty and pain, speak with a voice that has learned to carry the weight of its own truth.

Someday, my own daughter’s heart will spring from her chest. And I'll be there, hands weathered but steady, helping her bear the exquisite burden to come. For now, I watch her small figure turn the corner, taking a piece of me with her.