There comes a time in every parent's life, when they learn that time is cruel and unforgiving...
It was a bright morning in early September; the first day of Grade 3.
"Alors, tu es prête?" Joe asked once Katrina finished her toast. (So, are you ready?)
"Yep," said Katrina, as she put her plate in the sink and picked up the lunch she packed last night, all by herself.
"Eh bien, allons-y, l'école va commencer dans quelques minutes." (Well, come on, school will start in a few minutes.) But when Joe stood up, Katrina stopped him.
"Dad, I think I can walk to school by myself now."
"...Oh." Joe wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. Katrina hugged him, went to put her shoes on, and exited the house to go to school; by herself.
Joe quietly put his dishes in the sink, and went to sit on the couch to think.
"Dad, I think I can walk to school by myself now."
Well, of course. She was in Grade 3 now; surely she would have to start walking to school by herself eventually. But still his mind was stuck on that first word. Dad. He couldn't remember the last time he heard "daddy" pass her lips. Why, it had to have been at least a few weeks ago.
The realization hit like a hook.
His little girl was growing up.
Mais je ne suis pas prêt! (But I'm not ready!)
Not ready for any of it; not ready for her to drift away, not ready for her to be surly all the time, and not ready to stop hearing her voice every day.
…But then, she only had two more years before she hit double digits. And then come the teenage years. And then, before he knew it, she would be off to college.
He shook his head. Those things were still a while away. And even when they happened, it wouldn't stop her from being his daughter. He was just going to have to learn to live with it.
Doucement...doucement… (Gently...gently...)
Joe slowly carried an ice cube tray to the freezer. He placed it inside and closed the door.
Then he heard another door close; the front door. Katrina was home from school. However, before he could greet her and ask about her day, she stomped up the stairs and hid in her room.
Mon Dieu. (Oh god.) Joe needed a minute to sit down. His daughter didn't even want to see him after school.
Qu'est ce que j'ai fait?! (What did I do?!) He felt sick; like the whole room was spinning. Katrina was drifting away from him already; and she's only eight!
Ressaisis-toi. (Get a grip.) Katrina never stopped loving him. She couldn't.
...Could she?
The sun was beginning to set as Joe was putting dinner in the oven. Surely a hot meal would put his nerves at ease.
Profonde inspiration. (Deep breath.) Everything was going to be fine. ...Maybe.
He jumped a bit when Katrina wrapped her arms around his waist. "Sorry."
Joe turned and knelt down. "Oh, chérie, c'est correct. Je ne suis pas fâchée avec toi." (Oh, darling, it's okay. I'm not angry with you.) He held his little girl. "Est-ce que quelque chose se passe à l'école aujourd'hui?" (Did something happen at school today?)
"Tyler punched me on the playground," said Katrina, showing him the bruise.
"Oh." Katrina wasn't upset with him; rather, she was upset with someone at school. "As-tu parlé avec l'enseignant?" (Did you tell the teacher?)
"They won't listen," said Katrina. "They say we have to be nice to him because he's new here."
"Katie, même s'il est nouveau, il n'a pas le droit d'intimider-tu." Joe gave her a kind but firm look. "S'il fait ça un autre fois, raconter à un enseignant, et s'ils te punissent toi et pas il, je m'en occupe." (Katie, even if he's new, he doesn't have the right to bully you. If he does it again, tell a teacher, and if they punish you and not him, I'll handle it.)
Katrina smiled and hugged her father, and then was distracted by the oven. "What's cookin'?"
Joe chuckled. "La poule avec Shake 'n' Bake." (Shake 'n' Bake chicken.) Now there were three things Katrina was never going to lose; her love for him, her short attention span, and her excellent comedic timing.
...But even though they can't stop their kids from growing up, they can be right there loving them while they're there.
