Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Kimberly Gould Week 4: Strength in Small Packages

Picture 1

Picture 2

Kimberly Gould’s Picture Choice: 1

Title: Strength in Small Packages

She is leaving me. Her tiny feet move quickly, almost running through the grass toward the children playing ahead. She doesn’t look back. She’s so excited about being free to play. I watch her go, knowing this is the first of many partings. Next will be pre-school, then kindergarten. I almost kept her at length even as a baby, tried using formula instead of breast milk so it wouldn’t hurt as badly when she left. It didn’t work. It’s such a small parting, just a few minutes, half an hour, but my heart breaks to watch her go. I feel like I’m trapped in my mind and heart, beating against the glass to get out.

My chest is tight and my heart in my throat when she stops and turns back. She does run, straight for me. She hugs my legs and smiles up at me.

“Love you, Mama. Play now.”

Choking back tears, I nod and she hurries off to make new friends. She keeps glancing back and, even when playing, stops to wave once in a while, just as my heart begins to move into my throat again.

So much strength in such a little person.


Kimberly Gould is the author of Cargon: Honour and Privilege and the upcoming Thickness of Blood. She can be found most places as Kimmydonn, including



  1. Awww, this was so sweet. I don't have children, but I could feel the pangs of sadness by the narrator as her baby goes off, growing up before her very eyes. Nicely done.

  2. Oh, this is so sweet! Got me choked up! My son was so sweet like that and now, my three grandchildren break me like this every day. They are so independent that those random 'luv you nana' or 'drive-by hugs' catch me by surprise and I cherish them!! :)

  3. This was a perfect snapshot of what a mother goes through as her child starts to become independent. Our job is to give the the tools for real life, yet it hurts at the same time to watch them go. My little one is only seven, but she becomes more her own person every day. It's bittersweet.

    Nice job on this. *sniffle*


  4. thank you for your replies. I take strength from my daughter.

  5. I, like Miranda, am not a mother, but you did such an outstanding job of conveying those feelings that for a moment, I thought perhaps I felt the ghost of what that might be like. It's touching. It sounds like it feel like both the most amazing and terrifying thing ever. You wrote this wonderfully.

  6. This is a beautiful piece. Your title is the perfect comment... so much in such a short space.

  7. You wrote this while I was away on vacation, and I have to tell you as a mother too, this just breaks my heart. LOVELY words are lovely. Well done.