Dear Heart

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) i am never without it (anywhere I go, you go, my dear;) - e.e. cummings

My daughter left on Saturday for a week at the beach with my stepmom, stepsister and sister-in-law. It's the annual "girls week," only I couldn't go this year. I've never been away from Emily for seven whole days.
Once upon a time, I wouldn't let her out of my sight. I felt like I couldn't. She might have a seizure and I wouldn't be there to hold her, comfort her. I remember the panicked feeling I had every time she climbed a jungle gym. What if she had a seizure and I couldn't reach her? But I had to let her play, be a child. I never wanted her to feel different, even though she was walking around with a walnut-sized tumor in her brain.
Adding insult to injury is the fact that she won't talk to me on the phone. She's either having too much fun or she doesn't want to be reminded of me in case it makes her homesick. I know she's older now. And she's healthy. And most children by the time they are five have spent at least a week with their grandparents. But I keep turning to look for her, to make sure she's there. And she's not. And my heart has a hole in it the size of a five year old.