You're at the airport, hugging them goodbye. You knew it would hurt, but it hurt a lot less when you had imagined it. Each step is taking them away from you. You've left your fragrance in the scarf they're wearing. In their hands, which you wouldn't be holding for a long, long time. Behind their ear, where you blew them kisses. In that blue shirt they wore way too often because you loved it. There's so much of you they're taking away with them, but you cannot go with them. You want them to stay, but you feel like a bird with feet wrapped in wires. There's more sadness in you than in the morning paper. You love them too much to not let them grow.