Run Home to Me


Our little girl walked down the aisle this weekend.

After she had her own special photo shoot. And before she kicked off her shoes and had that first dance with her daddy to Gitchee Gitchee Goo from Phineas and Ferb.

We flew to Atlanta for the wedding of my youngest nephew. Our daughter was the flower girl for the festivities. It was a whirlwind trip, the kind that leaves the traveler wishing for a couple of days to catch up on lost sleep, but it was a good trip.

Our daughter spent some important time with my dad, charming her Grandpa with all her wiles and smiles. She bonded with her Aunt Liz and developed a crush on her cousin Michael. Her dad and I figure that’s a pretty safe crush.

Mommy and Daddy’s little girl is growing up. She’s experiencing new things and asserting ever more independence. We learned a few things about her. She’s a ham. I suspected that, but this weekend provided lots of empirical evidence: she didn’t hesitate to take to the dance floor; she came running in, waving her hands to her adoring crowd as the bridal party was announced at the reception; she freely introduced herself to everyone she met. She is also a bit of a party animal; I’ll need to file that information for future reference.

Even though she willingly embraced experiences foreign to her, wooed strangers and worked the photographers’ cameras, she is still a little girl—one who is more interested in counting the water fountains in the atrium of the hotel than listening to adults talk. A little girl with the attention span of a gnat, who has little patience for sitting and waiting. A little girl, who when she gets tired and weary, sheds tears and the laps of new acquaintances and runs to the open arms and hugs of Mom and Dad.

And we will always be there for her.

As I think about this weekend, watching her explore and fawn over new people and places, I couldn’t help think of the song “Run Home To Me”, a song that I first heard on the Eric Clapton Back Home CD—a CD that I played a lot when I was pregnant with my daughter.

“When it’s three o’clock in the morning and something’s scared you from your breast, I will gently rock you in my arms, and lay your little head on my chest. And when you run from my arms, know we’ll always find you. And when you run out of lovin’, run home to me. Run home to me.”

She was exploring and growing in a safe environment this weekend, surrounded by friends and family, many of whom genuinely love her and want the very best for her. When things got tiring though she ran back to us, and we were glad to hold her and hug her. Because that’s what parents do, let go and take back. Knowing sometimes they have to go and find; sometimes they have to wait and receive, but always they have to love.

©2012 Michele Arduengo. All rights reserved.

Author: Michele

Michele Arduengo is a life science and medical writer by profession and a creative non-fiction writer by hobby. In addition to publishing Grits and Purls since 2008, Michele has published essays in Wisconsin Woman, Chicken Soup for the Soul and has a weekly column in her local newspaper.

2 thoughts on “Run Home to Me”

  1. Lovely post, Michelle. Your little one is indeed fortunate to have the love of extended family in her life…and crushes are an important part of growing up, aren’t they? So cute.
    Before you know it, though, you’ll be chest-deep in her wedding preparations the way I am with my daughter this spring…can’t believe how the years flew by so quickly. But you know what…even now, when my daughter is tired out and stressed, it’s me that she calls for love and reassurance that everything will be okay. A strong parent-child bond is difficult to break, and thats not a bad thing…
    Love the dress, by the way!

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