of beginings and endings.

Last week, Leila started daycare. We went over on Tuesday for an hour so she could get used to the kids and the place, and she was fine. She played with the dogs and with the two little boys who go there as well. They're five and two. And when I came to pick her up she cried. She was having fun and didn't want to go.

I dropped her off the next morning for real, for the whole day. And again she was fine, she didn't cry when I left and I stayed, listening against the front door for a good ten minutes just to be sure. It was a hard day for me. She's seventeen months old. Not really a baby anymore, just a sweet little toddler who waves at everyone as she walks down the street. But still, so little in some ways. I want to be able to be with her all the time, but I enjoy being my own person again too.

It was so hard to walk away from her, to know that those long, endless days of each other had finally reached an end. And I'm glad we had seventeen months together. They went on for so long, and were gone so quickly.