FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL, PART II

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.