Y
ou stand daredevil high on metal monkey bars in the park, oblivious to danger. “Don’t,” I warn, “It’s not safe.” And you grudgingly oblige me and hang down closer to the earth. I stand guard anyway, but glance away for a moment, distracted by twilight.
I turnback toward you, only to helplessly watch you fall to the ground.
You get up gasping, your nose and mouth already bleeding. Horrified, I hold you tightly and try to absorb the hurt. You cry loudly from your pain, and I cry for all the ways I cannot protect you.
But in a few moments, you collect yourself. With a long, quivering sniffle and a brave breath, you brush away the remaining bark mulch that I have missed and give me a slightly teary-eyed, crooked smile.
“Mommy, I really want to get back on. And this time, I want to do a back flip.” You say this even though your lip is still bleeding.
And in this minute my surprise co-mingles with awe, respect and pride, and I see more than my tear-stained three-year-old daughter standing before me. I see the raw material of courage. I see the makings of perseverance and determination. I see a girl with something that I didn’t put inside her, a girl who has something that nobody can take away. I see you, my daughter, a child who falls down but gets up and keeps dancing. And I see once again that I am the student, and you are the inspiration.
As I hoist your small body up to the bar my thought is a prayer, for you and for me, Don’t ever let go of this.
- Karen C. Driscoll
All things are possible until they are proved impossible - and even the impossible may only be so as of now.
- Pearl S. Buck