My oldest child is leaving me. She’s flying into the future, outside my force field. I won’t be able to protect her. It doesn’t feel natural, but here we are. My herd is shrinking and my heart is breaking.

My mother did it, as did my father, both my brothers, and me. We all traveled thousands of miles from home to learn, to be uncomfortable with change, to sleep in new beds, to make new friends, to walk with strangers, and sometimes to eat dinner alone. Now it’s her turn. She is traveling 378 miles, and my force field can’t reach that far. This is natural, I’m told.

Her departure date is coming fast, and I’m trying to step around this new sadness. When I allow my toes to dip into it, I’m simply overcome. How is this natural?

When I left home 30 years ago, the shock of feeling so alone among hundreds of students lingered for months. I didn’t dare speak much and the loneliness was crippling. Yet somehow, I lived, learned, and discovered. Not all my discoveries were good, some were quite painful. And I had no force field.

She won’t have a force field either. And she may be so lonely, sad, and homesick. Ohhh.

It won’t last, trust me.

But I don’t want her to suffer for one second.

She has to learn.

I have to learn.

Oh, how I love you Saleha Mai. I must let you go, I know. I want you to see the world and meet many people who will open your heart and your mind. I want you to surround yourself with people you respect, who also will help you reach your stars.

Don’t be stingy with love, and try to love yourself as much as others love you. Always be kind and gentle to those who need it, but most of all, be kind and gentle to yourself. And remember, if you build yourself a strong sisterhood, and you will have an army to fight your life battles with you.

And never forget when you have to lick your wounds, heal your heart, or rest your soul, you can always come home to be loved and soothed. My force field will always protect you.