At two, I pushed you out of the nest for the very first time.
But your tiring days at playschool/daycare were at loggerheads with the long hours my career demanded. It was all too much and all too soon. And it broke your heart and mine to bits in the process. So, we were back in our little nest, gluing the pieces together, and growing stronger with time.
At three, I pushed you out of the nest again.
You flew a little – bold and fierce as ever. But your wings were not ready for the tedious flight that traditional schools demanded. They grew tired. Your big dreams weighed heavy on your little shoulders. Gravity did its part, shattering your dreams on the rocky shores of reality below. So, I pulled you in – into our little nest to rekindle the glint back in your eyes. After all, who are you without your blazing dreams?
At five and a half, I am pushing you out of the nest again.
I know your wings are stronger, your eyes still have those perfect dreams that are meant just for you. I can see that you are ready to soar. Scared, yes. But brave as ever. The wind is taking you high as you spread your little wings in anticipation.
And I am cautiously optimistic.
For this is my job, the job of a parent – to push you out of the nest again and again.
You are not always ready. Neither am I. I make many mistakes with you because sadly, I can see them only in retrospect. For there is no guide, no book, no instructions to tell me when you will be ready.
When you are ready.
So this is what I do. I push you out. Then I hope and pray with all my heart and some. Rinse. Repeat. For as long as I live. For I am the keeper of your hopes and the safety net to catch your fall.
As you take flight one more time, my dearest eaglet, know this – I am ready with my safety net. I have my watchful eyes on your glowing dreams, and on you, as always. And I will not hesitate to swoop down and break your fall if need be – never before, but on time, for sure. I will not think about general consensus or popular opinion before asking you to come back to our little nest and rest a while if (and when) you grow tired and your dreams begin to slip.
For as long as it takes. For as many iterations as you need.
Then, I will push you out again.
Till you learn to fly. Till you learn to catch the wind beneath and soar above the clouds. Till you rule the skies the way you were meant to. The way you always dreamed of. For there is no better way to fly than to carry those blazing dreams in your twinkling eyes and faith afire in your fluttering heart.
Good luck, my little eaglet. May you soar high and touch light, this time and always!
*This post originally appeared on the author’s blog.