Letter to you, the parent who has trouble letting your child leave

We would like to keep him just for ourselves but now he starts in the middle of the others, so small too, a plus a little one, it starts to do a lot in the courtyard who comes alive of hundreds of bright eyes.The pride and apprehension in these new looks, the friends we find, joy, excitement, the new satchel hoisted like a flag on the back, and too bad if it slips, if it's a bit heavy, that's the privilege of being able to do like the big ones.

The school grid opens at the same time as souvenir, the first years of life, first smiles, first teeth, first steps, all these colorful photos, polychrome snapshots that parade in the head of the parents' head.We had promised not to cry, we are still going to cry, this tear that we retain, more pressing, more bitter, as the little one goes away.A cap, an upheaval.

Because life is that: learn to let go.Learn to let grow.It makes a funny vacuum anyway.

We try to see it, in the middle of all these others, but already its silhouette has disappeared.We would like to hold the warmth from our hand.The delicate fingers that have opened, air, volatile.Butterflies.We promised not to cry.He was a little man.He was a little woman.Peanut pirouette.Who had broken his nose.We had promised not to cry.Little fairy.Will-o'-the-wisp.Flight.Three years.Four years.Five years.Six years.Nouvelle school branch, his silhouette that dances in the middle of all the others.A cap, an upheaval.

Because life is that: learn to let go.

PS: In these back -to -school days, I have a special thought for paranges...