And there she was...gone

She isn't here.

For the first time in her life, she will not sleep at home, will not be here when I wake. We had dinner with Tracy and Adrian and she came back in from the trampoline next door and begged to stay with Talulla and Sadie. My first instinct was to say no, and I did, but then I thought about it and wondered what reason I had to say no. I said to Ez - should we ask her and make sure she is ready? I took her aside and talked to her about it, about what it means to have a sleep over. I explained that Mommy and Daddy wouldn't be there and that she would wake up at their house and not ours...was that okay? She was excited, insistent that it was, that she was fine. I felt torn - for whom would I be saying no? For me, for her dad? Because though we were both utterly unprepared and a bit apprehensive, Nahanni was fine. She was primed. She was excited. She went pee, threw on pj's, brushed her teeth in between giggling with the girls. I stood there, feeling torn, worried...almost overwhelmed. It felt strange to be leaving her there - anywhere, really - and to go home without her. I've never spent a single night away from my child and I'm not sure if I was ready (and Ez really wasn't ready).

But she was.

She was so happy and excited she scarcely could pull herself away to say goodbye. Ez and I stood back, both of us (I think) wanting some kind of long kiss goodbye, but she was already ensconced with the other girls, giggling and hopping on her mattress, inspecting the pink sheets, the beige blanket, picking stories for the night. Her dad and I stood there at the door, lingering helplessly and when she couldn't even manage a wave over her shoulder we slunk out, empty handed. We entered the car in silence, me torn between feeling so proud of her for being ready and scared because maybe I'm not. I wanted to laugh at how strange it felt, how quickly that corner was turned but the tension in the car was palpable. If I felt a bit apprehensive, I can now say that Ez seemed downright perturbed. More than just the shocky feeling of such an unexpected turn in the evening, he felt...what? Like he'd gotten pressed into agreeing. He felt unhappy, not because he'd really see her any less - she'd have gone home to bed and I'd have been up with her for hours in the morning before he even got up - but because at the snap of two fingers our little girl had turned a corner. She has passed into a realm that now extends past us, past our home even, and he really was not ready for that to happen. I wasn't quite ready either, at least tonight, but I seemed more ready than he.

I suppose it is a real turning point in her young life, what will eventually be commomplace now seems like a giant turn of events. Driving home in a silent car, tension thrumming between us (that's just how daddy rolls) without her little noises in the backseat. I tried to talk to him about how happy it made her, but he was just living in his feelings of being upset, of feeling left behind in this major moment that he wasn't ready for...so entering the house without her, suddenly her little empty ballet shoes held a poignancy they wouldn't have otherwise. Her leftover 'cheesy-beedles' from lunch, her chair pulled up to the sink where she'd washed her hands - these little things held a certain loneliness to them. I don't mean to be melodramatic, but still I think 'Oh! Where's my girl!?'

I know where she is - she is with friends that I trust like family. She is lying in a darkening room laughing with her friends. She is a little girl testing her boundaries. May she always be ready to push herself, and even if we are not always ready for it, may we always know when it's fine to say yes.

Sleep well, lovely girl. You'll be in my dreams and I'll see you tomorrow. Bright and early I bet. For me, not for you.