As we drove off campus,
leaving our first-born daughter to "fly" on her own, a new chapter
opened on the home front. The Scripture verse, "The last shall be
first," springs to mind.
The youngest daughter for the first time in her
life-- for more than a few days anyway--had the parents all to herself. Oh, she
relished this new position.
It was discussed even as
we drove away. “I have you all to myself. I'm going to love this, I
think," I remember hearing her say.
It was her senior year of
high school. We were all aware -- two of us more than the third-- that this was
a year-- a whole year--but only
one. We would make the most of it.
Not that I believed we
had neglected our third born-- certainly
not! As the youngest she had always enjoyed a
certain amount of deference. Ask our son: many evenings as he endeavored rather
patiently to share something of his day, he endured and indulged the youngest--
putting in her "two cents"-- no matter it was not yet her turn.
But in this the glorious
senior year, she was an only child. She sat at the head of the table in our
dining room, parents on either side. That way she could see us both and
"hold court" as it were. She had a captive audience night after night
and no one with whom to share the "microphone."
We got to listen-- not
that it was a chore, not at all. We knew she would be in a new position at
school as well, having had her sister with her in high school every day the
preceding two years, she now drove to school alone, drove home alone, and did
not have her sister or her usual group of friends to chat with at lunch.
Nearly all of her close friends
had been seniors, who were now freshmen in college. It seemed not only did her
sister "go off to college and leave her behind," she “took all her
best friends away, too."
So, how to manage this
year of transition? She told me at some
point: “I knew I would miss her, miss them. So I filled my schedule with lots
of demanding things, so I would be too busy to miss them...much."
President of the National
Honor Society; Executive President of
the Student Council; female lead of the
high school production of "Disney's
High School Musical"; First Chair clarinet in the symphonic
band; Section Leader in the Marching
Band--there is more, but you get the
idea. (I am not revealing secrets. I am
sure if you Google her, this is researchable information.)
These are just examples
of how she filled her life and her schedule. Managing missing loved ones has--
or can have --productive advantages,
as well as building character.
During her senior year we
watched as a family the shows she wanted to watch. “Gilmore Girls” was still in
production and when the weekly shows would air, the three of us sat on the sofa
to watch, with her in the middle.
I got the opportunity to
see through her eyes and her character favorites how she saw herself. It was a good thing. She had been a little more inscrutable than
the other two. I welcomed this insight into her self image and her thought process.
That was the first year I
ever watched all the broadcast NFL games. Sunday, Monday and Thursday nights we
watched football.
Let me say, basketball
had been my favorite spectator sport from high school. In college, the games
were for socializing with friends. It was great when we won—awful when we lost,
but I did not really understand the game, could not follow the plays and
honestly—I did not care that much.
But that year, she
predicted early in the season who would win—the Indianapolis Colts. She had her
favorite quarterback and this was her team. I never even asked her why she
favored them, but we as a little family followed them that year.
I learned more about
football and actually developed a love of the game—which completely surprised
me. She had been right: the Colts won the Super Bowl. We having followed their whole season felt
like participants in their victory. It is rather nice isn’t it, to be right?
She thought so.
All the activities meant
that the time seemed to streak by. All of a sudden, it was graduation time. The
summer sped by even faster as she worked two summer jobs. Then, it was time (I
now know) for the last back-to-school shopping trips of my career.
Having done this a few
times, she knew the drill. She always knew her own mind anyway—her way of doing
things, her organization method. She had thought these things through.
The drive to college—same
college as her sister, though decided independent of that—was a mere ninety
minutes. Normally, that allowed time for some conversation. I don’t recall what
it was about, only that there was less talk and it was over too soon.
Up the stairs, carrying
loads neatly divided in clear plastic containers, categorized by location for
use. This time having learned from the others, clothes came on hangers and went
straight into the closet. This time we already had the cleaning products and
supplies and the risers for the bed—no need for side trips to obtain these.
She had everything she
needed. All was in order-- in place, in
no time, it seemed. I am sure this was
the quickest unpack-the-car-organize-the-room transition we had accomplished.
Then, it was time to go. After lingering embraces and waves, we drove
away and she went off to meet new friends of her own.
So, having done this
twice before, was it still heart-wrenching and filled with mixed emotions?
Absolutely.
On the one hand, we had
had the best year of our three lives. We had spent a lot of time: talking, being team members and audience members and
occasionally comforters—but always supporters.
On the other hand, this
was the culmination of twenty-three years of investing one’s life into the
projects of one’s dreams—times three—and the work was all done. Having put in
all the ingredients, in the right amounts, in the right order, and according to
best values and standards and directions, it was time to put the cake in the
oven…and wait for the results. There was
literally nothing else to do.
So we took a deep breath,
drove away with only a few tears-- and went on a Caribbean vacation.
