Erin is all moved in. Her room-mate, Jo, is the same lovely young woman Erin roomed with in Ireland. Such a lucky break for them both, as they begin their F&M college career and meet all their future friends.
Dad and I are about to get into the car for the drive home. Both of our daughters — are young women now — building lives of their own. I am reminded of the beautiful poem by Kahlil Gibran.
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.
Peter and I head home now — to remain the stable bow. Fly straight and fierce, little arrow. We love you. No tears Diane.
Ciao for now…..mom and dad