Walk away

The day started early like it normally does.  I was up at 6, tip-toeing around the house getting ready, frying up my eggs, packing my bags.  I was even more quiet than usual because I knew not to wake up my June-bug quite yet.  Little did she know she was on her way to getting six teeth extracted at the hospital and she wasn't going to eat her fancy breakfast this morning.

As quick as a blink I got her ready, whisked her downstairs, avoiding the kitchen, hoping she wouldn't notice the pantry when she broke down in tears and collapsed on the floor because she couldn't have her bless-ed honey nut cheerios.  I kissed her, smoothed her tears away, told her we were going to see a doctor, buckled her up as she was thrashing and protesting. 
Over and over between prayers, I chanted, 
"Katie just drive the five minutes to the hospital.  
You know she'll do better once she's there."

And I was right of course,  because CHKD sure knows how to make everyone feel all cheery at 7:30 in the morning with their bright lights, bold colors, see-through elevators and swishy fish.

Well I wasn't really prepared for all that was to take place. 
My heart, that is, wasn't prepared.  I really didn't think it was that big of deal.  
She's going under.  
And getting 6 teeth extracted. 
And 3 sealants and a flouride treatment.  
2 hours of recovery.
And then we will be on our way.

I'll even get a coffee at Starbucks.  It will go fine.

So we stripped her down, put on some adorable mini-scrubs and set her up with an ipad and waited...and waited some more.

Then they came in and explained everything and asked if she needed a sedative before they walked her down the hall and I rattled off, 

"No thanks-she doesn't have stranger anxiety."

And then they held her hand and took her away.
Just like that.

I watched her walk the super long walk down the hall. I just sort of froze there by the patient family waiting room.  She walked like a big girl with all the grace and confidence in the world.

Walked through two double doors.
By the nurse's station.
And as she walked through the second set of double doors my eyes welled up with tears and I stood there in a puddle.
Watched as she vanished around the corner.

"Are you going to turn around and look back at me?"  I thought.

I'm probably the only mother in the world who watches her daughter walk a hundred steps just because she's walking.

I gathered myself and went downstairs, grabbed a coffee, came back up and rounded the corner and there she was-

A mother.  Standing in the same spot I was, watching her little one walk the walk.
Tears streaming down her face.
I smiled bittersweetly and said, "Yeah-I just did the exact same thing."

And then it hit me like a ton of bricks as I sat down.
I wasn't expecting tears and I started thinking about why it was that I was crying.
Was I scared? No.
Was there an unknown outcome? Not really.
Was June going to be in pain? Probably not.

I was crying because I was watching her walk all by herself.  
Down the longest hallway I had ever seen.  
I was crying because I knew she wanted to tell me something but couldn't.  
I was crying because I was wondering if I let her go and let her keep walking, 

WOULD SHE JUST WALK AWAY?

Walk away.

Wander away to the the glimmering sea where the dolphins play and the mermaids swim.
Where the sun is hot
And the waves pound your flesh against the soft white sand.

Does she know who loves her?
Does she care about our home and everything we do to make her comfortable and safe?
Would she miss us if she got lost?
Would she smile if we found her?

And I didn't know.

And I don't know.
Would she just walk away?

January snowstorm 

Maybe the question is-
Would she come back to find us?