Shadows

Prompt: "Very often a Change of Self is more important then a change in scene"
(I did this for a writing club and you are required to associate your story with a specific prompt)

Memories. They're shadows that cross the path of life and cover the sidewalk of the future. As I lie here in bed and listen to the cars zoom by and watch their silhouettes outlined across the beige colored wall, I see them flit away into the darkness. I try and hold onto the images, but they fade away along with the vroom of the engine and little of a goodbye.
I used to tell myself that what was most important was being together. You know. Being a family. You eat dinner together, watch movies together, play board games, eat pizza, laugh, joke, enjoy each others company. You cry together. You suffer together. The pain and the hardships endured are shared equally amongst an entire group of people. And it doesn't feel right if even one person isn't involved. Especially if it's your daughter.
I turn restlessly in my bed and watch as yet another headlight crosses the width of the room.
"Today's the first day of school daddy!"
"I know, sweetie, I know!"
"It's going to be fun and I'm going to love it!"
A soft, gentle laugh emits from the adult. "I'm sure, honey, of course!"
"And all the kids will love me!"
"Oh, without a doubt!"
"See you when I get home, okay daddy?"
"Absolutely. Love you Em!"
A sloppy kiss on the cheek....
"I love you too daddy!"
Memories, fleeting and visual. I shift my position once again so I'm looking at the stars out the window instead of the anxious tension brought about by the shadows of cars. They are merely dots sketched artistically across the canvas of a dark night sky, yet the stability of their position in the painting is a comfort in the unfamiliarity of the soon to be new environment of my home. As I point out the constellations, I look at Orion's sword and shadows flood my brain.
"Daddy, why are they so mean to me?" Wet tears on a wet face slide onto a now wet shirt.
"I don't know." A sorrowful embrace.
"I don't understand daddy... I don't understand!" Little arms as thin and fragile as twigs swaying in the breeze squeeze about the waist of the parent.
"Emily?" More crying. "Emily?" A soft sniffle and suddenly the two are eye level, one squatting and seeking, the other hunched over with misery. "Do you know what I think about you?" No response. "I think you are gorgeous. I think you're a princess. I think you're smart. And funny. And clever. And-" A pause. "Emily?" No response. "Emily? I love you." The soft stroking of young, chubby cheeks. "I'm not going to let them hurt you."
"You'll protect me?"
"Until the end of time."
My head hurts and suddenly I don't want to look at the stars anymore. I don't want to look at Orion's sword and I want the cars to stop driving. It's 2 in the morning, but for some reason there seems to be an incessant amount of silhouettes flickering across the bedroom. And I want them to stop. I want them to go away.
As each memory flows into my head, the pain I feel in my gut grows and grows like the rushing of a river during a storm. I see birthday parties, daddy-daughter dances, soccer games, movie nights, homecoming, prom, graduation, college visits... Everything that had seemed to be a scene in my life was going to disappear in one big flash of lightning.
"Daddy, Drew's a good guy."
"I believe you, sweetie, I believe you."
"And we love each other very much."
"I know, honey, I know."
"And we are getting married tomorrow. You know that, right?"
"Of course, Em. Of course."
A sigh. "You know I love you daddy."
"Yes, yes I do."
"And I'll always be your little girl."
A hesitation. "Yes, yes I know."
"Please try to understand, daddy. Please try to understand that I'm not a child anymore. Understand that I have to leave, understand that I have to grow up!"
"I-" A gulp. "I understand."
A hug.
"I love you daddy. I love you I love you I love you." The words are muffled in the shirt of the elder. Yet both are adults.
"I love you too."
I smooth out my pillow and rearrange my sheets. The distracting shadows seem to disappear for a while and I stare up at a blank ceiling and think. Think about how I won't have her in my life anymore. Think of how I'll feel walking her down the aisle knowing that the moment I let go of her hand, all I have are the flicker of shadows to remind me of what my life was like when she was here in my arms, under the protection of my sword.
And I realize that my baby bird is out of the nest. She's soaring through the sky making a life in a castle on a cloud. And I have to accept her happiness and elation with equal enthusiasm. I have to adapt to my surroundings, change my character and be content and comfortable with the newness of her absence.
One more car passes along the street before I drift into the darkness of sleep and I watch carefully as one last delicate yet articulate outline flickers across the familiar position of my bedroom wall. My gaze is intense and sorrowful, yet happy and joyful. As it passes by, I savor the image and instead of dreading it, hold onto the moment. Because I know that my change in character and my recognition of all our memories is all that will matter in the long run.
I snuggle up under my covers and let my eyelids gently blanket the tiredness of my eyes and relieve them of their strain. I let the unfamiliarity of tonight and tomorrow be my cover of relief and accept that she is soaring away from home, yet I do not cower from the shadows and instead relish them and implant them in my brain.
Although my surroundings are changing and I will not have Emily in my care anymore, I am learning to recognize the eternal silhouettes of life.
And I rejoice in their company.
Then, I fall asleep.