It’s five years since I watched you, with your backpack on your shoulders, walking away over the schoolyard. I remember how your small hand slipped from mine as you crossed the boundary between childhood and independence. The sky was a vast, open blue, and your footsteps echoed softly on the cracked concrete. I wondered if you sensed my quiet, aching pride, or my silent fear of what lies ahead. As you turned the corner, I felt a sudden ache, a mixture of love and loss that refused to fade. Your back was small against the horizon, yet your presence was enormous in my heart. I knew then that this moment would shape my understanding of letting go, of watching you grow away from me, into your own life.