This year is going to be Arden's last year of elementary school. Then it's off to junior high. I've been thinking a lot lately about how different her childhood has been from mine. At her age, I was pretty much on my own during the summer. I left in the morning after my parents went to work and I came back home for dinner at the same time they did. Sure I was doing things I shouldn't have been doing and saying things I shouldn't have been saying but, oh, how I cherished that freedom. I can see now that it was a little too much freedom, and I can remember even then thinking I was growing up too fast.
As I watch her stretch her arms up high over her head and see the focus in her eyes, I hear myself silently cheering her name. She pauses for just a moment then hits the water with a splash. She turns around and takes measured strokes back to the side. When she comes up to take a breath, she already looks older to me. And I can see in that moment that diving in uncharted waters, whatever they may be, requires the same reliance on yourself, the same trust that you will figure it out in your own way—that same freedom. She runs to me with her arms wrapped tightly around her chest, still dripping wet and smiling from ear to ear, and falls into me, giggly and proud. And as I wrap her towel around her, I know she still needs me standing on the sidelines, cheering her on. And that's where I'll be for as long as she needs me.
