I am looking forward to a rare visit by my daughter tonight. She and her boyfriend will stay with us for a couple of nights. That reminded me of a poem I wrote the night she moved out of the house into her first apartment for her second year in college on August 26, 2004. Here it is, almost 10 years old:

Your Bed is Gone

Your bed is gone,
Your big girl bed,
That we bought when you were
Just eleven years old.
It is now in a strange apartment,
In another city,
In another life.

You needed help moving,
But you directed the effort,
Made sure we wrapped things
So they didn’t get scratched.
You have a credit card now,
To buy your own books,
You are taking care of yourself.
I have done my job well.

We had breakfast this morning,
All four of us together,
With all four beds still here in this house.
It was the last breakfast
With you as a child,
Forever to remember,
Just as the first
Breakfast ever with you.

Now I know for myself
The pain I brought to my parents
When I left at eighteen,
To a distant place,
On the far side of the world.
It took this long to learn.

The evening sun casts its shadows,
Disappears in an orange glow.
Without my permission,
It takes away this August day.
A new era starts.
I am still here, but you
Are in another life.

Your bed is gone,
Your big girl bed.
I am done as a dad,
And now ask for the honor
To be your friend.