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Speaker, Writer, and Author of GodSpace

From my outbox

nearly all the outgoing text messages from my phone go to my kids. this summer, they say things like “I’ll pick u up @ 10:30” or “I’m in the parking lot” or “Dad is on his way. who else are we driving?”
I am my 15-year-old’s chauffer this summer. I’d complain, but I’m being laid off from this job soon. Today, she got her learner’s permit, and I let her drive around the neighborhood a bit. She actually did quite well.
My daughter has to log 50 hours of driving on her permit. I would hate to log how many hours I’ve spent driving her around in the last 15 years, but I know those 50 hours will fly by.
I keep having flashbacks to teaching her to ride her bike, running alongside her until she was riding on her own and didn’t even realize it. Because this feels a little like that. I stand, panting, watching her spread her wings and fly. I didn’t know I could be this sad and this proud at the same time.

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