She sprints away.

Behind her trails a vacuum that time rushes in to fill, moving too fast for me to keep pace. Time propels her forward. She is suddenly out of reach.

I watch her go off with her friends, all noise and bluster and laughter.

I am standing in the Magic Kingdom, but there are no illusions here.

The little girl is gone.

The sun blazes without mercy. Its heat and light bring searing clarity to the divide between then and now.

Yesterday we walked through this park holding hands. Her skipping along, six, seven years old, ice cream her only concern in the world.

Was she my only concern in the world? Did I know the moment was slipping away?

Then, a blur forward. It is now, but now has already passed and I am dizzy. Time exposes me. I am an unworthy opponent.

I thought I could outsmart it. Apply the emergency brake when time wasn’t looking and keep the years from flying by.

No chance. Denial always brings failure.

Where is time taking her? Why wasn’t I told I wouldn’t be in control?

She rushes off. Eyes wide, alive, excited. She is not yet an adult but no longer a child.

The moment is beautiful, heartbreaking, and stunning. Just like she is.

I am left behind.

Her adventure awaits.

And that is as it should be.