If you look closely at this photograph, in the distance, you’ll see a figure in a purple coat.
If you look again, you’ll notice that the figure is alone.
That’s my girl. My 17-year-old daughter, walking to school (well, part of the way to school), on her own.
Her teaching assistant has been calling for her in the morning and letting her take the lead on the quarter of a mile walk from our house to her classroom. The helper has been dropping back, ‘shadowing’ and offering help and advice where needed, as my daughter’s travel training has stepped up a gear.
This morning, she suggested that my girl meet her at the first road she has to cross, around the corner of our cul de sac and just a few hundred yards along.
Tomorrow, she’s meeting her a bit further along, after she’s crossed on her own.
Each day, step by step, my girl is being given more free rein, until she’s able to safely complete the short, but oh so epic journey. Solo.
I’m terrified, of course. But if my anxious girl can do this thing, this mundane, run-of-the-mill, utterly amazing thing, then I'll do my bit: let her.
