Sitting on a tree along the side of a small mountain stream, I watched my daughter delicately cast my three weight up current. It was her 21st birthday. She had a diamond on her left hand now…given just the day before from whom I now refer to as my second son. She doesn’t fish often, but she fishes well. In two weeks she leaves for her first year of Veterinary school. It is miserable hot. The stream is low. I caught a monster brook trout here two months ago. Today there are no fish left. She keeps going.

For most of the summer I’ve avoided thinking about it I guess. Choosing instead to be a difficult Dad asking hard questions about living expenses, tuition, transportation, preparedness….. making her schedule her own appointments instead of doing it for her. Forcing the transition I know is coming.

But on that stream-side, all I could see was my little girl. What seems so long ago also seems like yesterday. So many years gone by. So many years I wish I could have back.

But we can’t get them back. Nor should we. Everything we do is to get them to this point. To prepare them for this moment. To trust God to do the rest.

And so I fought back the tears and changed her fly. Pointed out the runs and just where to cast. Cautioned her as the water got too deep for her boots. And told her I was proud of her. Proud of the woman she has become.

Along that stream, I knew, there wouldn’t be more days like this one. Time moves on. Life gets complicated. Things change. As they should.

But for those few minutes, we were there, together. And time paused just long enough to let us notice, and say thanks. And to catch one tiny fish.

Thank you Gracie, for being my little diamond. Wherever life takes you from here, you’ll always be my little girl. I am proud. I love you much.