To A Daughter Leaving Home

Linda Pastan

When I taught you
at eight to ride
a bicycle, loping along
beside you
as you wobbled away
on two round wheels,
my own mouth rounding
in surprise when you pulled
ahead down the curved
path of the park,
I kept waiting
for the thud
of your crash as I
sprinted to catch up,
while you grew
smaller, more breakable
with distance,
pumping, pumping
for your life, screaming
with laughter,
the hair flapping
behind you like a
handkerchief waving
goodbye.

As I read this poem, I can't help but get a little teary eyed. I know, pathetic. "To A Daughter Leaving Home" reminds me so much of my own mother and the way she cares for me and follows me into the future. The way Linda Pastan connects the young child riding a bicycle to a grown woman fearlessly taking on the world is simply brilliant.

It's true, I will skin my knees because I'll fall off the bike. I will definitely ride too fast but my mom will always be right behind me, ready to bandage my bruises.