Squeeze

"Don't lose me, Daddy."

"I won't, sweetie, I promise"

Little fingers squeeze my hand in response to these whispered affirmations as a ringing sound fills the air.  Slowly we make our way forward.  Her weighed down with new bags and nerves.  Me with sadness and worry.

Through the double doors, into the echoing hall, we step forward.  She looks up at me, nerves obvious in her pleading eyes.

I smile at her.  "You're going to be great, Peanut, I'm so proud of you!"

We walk slowly past smiling faces and milling children, moving with the crowd.

It takes too long and not nearly long enough to reach the door.  I give her hand one last reassuring squeeze as we step in, but she is already gone.  Talking to new friends and finding her place in this world.

"Be good, sweetie!"

"I love you daddy!"  From across the room, not even looking up.

My heart is full to bursting with fatherly pride and a sense of profound sadness.  I am too overwhelmed by emotion to speak.

I keep my head high as I walk, alone, back to the car.  Tears held in check until I seal myself in the tiny metal shell.

Only then, as I ponder truly leaving this place, do they come.  Unchecked, unbidden, and fierce; tears spring from my eyes and I begin to sob.

I am lost for a moment in memories.  Diapers, laughter, blankets and that cheap stuffed alligator.  Kisses, hugs, smiles and those deep brown eyes looking at me like I AM the world.

I know she will be fine, it isn't for her that I cry.  I cry for me.  For the loss of time.  Never enough time.

But that's the funny thing about time, it keeps marching on.  And I am proud as well.  Overjoyed at the intelligence and imagination I have seen bubbling from someone so small.  Beaming with fatherly happiness at the thought of all the new adventures spread before her.  I couldn't be happier.

Nor could I be more sad.

It is my daughters first day of school.