the thing most feared

I don't want her to die in a gym.  It's a feeling that doesn't have to be written. I don't want her to die; not there. 

No one has to say this but I am. I don't want her to walk into a room and never walk out.

She has traded a childhood of freedom for discipline and work. Hours, days, months, years of training. She has lived there; I don't want her to die there too.

Gymnastics is hard.
It's scary.
It hurts.

It is not for everyone.  But for those who find it as the framework for their lives, it is the only way.  It is their language, their culture.  It teaches them about the world and about themselves. 

And as much as I don't love the sport part of it, I have always feared the moment it ends for her.  Never once did I consider the alternative- that she could end.  Broken bones and pulled muscles... but even I didn't allow my fears to go beyond that.

She is who she is because of this sport and this sport IS because of others like her.  

So I say again to the moms and the dads, what words do we want to give to our daughters as they go to and from their work? 

Work harder, point your toes, run faster, take more turns, push harder. OR I love you. Have fun. Be brave, but not too brave. We are proud of you for all that you do. 

It is more likely one of us will die driving than one of them will die as a result of gymnastics.

 It is more likely your good-bye would be your last, not hers. 

But what if a million horrible things lined up.

Anxiety gives me a clear window. The world is dangerous. I am just "lucky" enough to always know that. It doesn't take a tragedy to remind me of how fast the clock is ticking.

If today was our last day together what would we have done differently? How would you have said good-bye?