Letter to my daughter gone traveling

My daughter, it has been a few years since you chose to take the path of this great freedom.
In search of the adventures that you could not have had with us, in your family, in your country. Go to discover these facets of yourself still unexplored.
Your words and images tell of men and women who, like you, thirst for the unknown in its most intense form.
I do not understand everything. I do not measure the power of what you are going through. The meaning you put in it, and how it shapes you. To transform you. You that I conceived in my belly, modeled in my hands, raised under my gaze.
What are you going to look for so far that I don’t have to offer you?
I watch you on my screens flourish far from me.
My flower, the one I protected against thick and thin, suffocating mother-wolf. My daughter hatches in these tropical lands, sometimes arid, always foreign.
I want to bring you back to me, to your family’s nets.
Keep you safe in my arms, curled up on my chest, singing to you how much I love you, how important you are to me.
There are days. I force myself to go on with my life. Without dying of worry. Without turning paranoid. Without harassing you. I do too much, and yet I seem to be so little present.
My words search for syllables at the height of this volcano that burns inside me, never succeeding in expressing to you what I feel.
My fears are love letters, bottles in the sea that will sail the oceans of every continent to reach you.

And you are always trying to run away from me.
To break my limits, the injunctions of a framework are too narrow for you.
Confront your chrysalis. The one that nourished you all this time, through which you became strong enough to find the courage to break it.
You dance around the globe, thousands of movements, comings and goings, little by little, to find a way out of this cocoon prison. Could you get rid of my mother’s hen shells?
Face the facts. I am no longer good enough.
We were mourning our merger. You are already running to meet this elsewhere that is taking you away from me. Discover you through the trials and the eyes of others.
My daughter, when you leave, you are proof that you have found what will allow your great trip through everything I have given you.
Strength, courage, flexibility, empathy, ambition, letting go, confidence.
And when you have finished this beautiful journey,
or that you need to find some stability, I’ll be there. Waiting for you with a big heart to collect your fatigue, fears, hopes, and landscapes.
I will always be your roots, those clinging to your belly that push you to take root to explore better, start again, grow.
Those on whom you can rest and find your support, your momentum, your balance.
Like the tree which draws from its roots the strength to deploy itself ever higher, ever further.
And even if life takes you to new horizons again, a part of you will forever belong to this land that saw you grow up.
There are birth grounds, wildlands, and host lands, all necessary to make you grow.
And when it all crumbles, hopes are erased, plans swept away, tears roll down your cheeks and fear grips your insides, know that there is a place where you will find some rest, some peace and love to bounce back better.
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