My little girl is growing up. Just after Labor Day, she started fourth grade. I remember her first day of kindergarten; I took her to school, walked her into class, and cried the whole way to work. Now, I walk her into class, and I well up with this overwhelming happiness and pride. She has grown up to be quite the little lady; she has a circle of friends she really loves, and she seems to really have found her place in the world that surrounds her. Six or so years ago, I might not have pictured this; going through some of the upheaval and stress of watching her parents, and seeing the aftermath of a tumultuous relationship. She is happy, and healthy, and feels totally comfortable and at ease. It makes me so happy to know that because she is here; because here is *home*, that she has really grown and just become her own person.

I hope that the connection we share now; the closeness and the trust, the sharing of stories about our day and about things that trouble us sometimes – I hope that doesn’t stop. I’d like to think that I will not be the mother whose daughter rejects her; that she will always come to me for comfort and solace. I do everything I can to make sure that she knows I can be trusted, that she can rely on me, and that I am always there for her. I can’t wait to take her picture before she goes off to college, look back, and wistfully remember this day, only a week ago.