Almost five is so difficult.
But it's a new kind of fun, too.
Every goodbye we make is tearful,
Except when I drop her off at school, and she
breezes away like a leaf.
We play more make-believe games
and she doctors my myriad broken bones,
but she also asks some hard questions
that stir me up into deeper ones
and I answer as best I can.
She climbed this log yesterday
and held my hand, trembling,
she told me she was afraid of heights.
But look at her up there,
that doesn't look like fear to me.
It looks bold.