“It is always sad when someone
leaves home, unless they are simply going around the corner and will return in
a few minutes with ice-cream sandwiches.”
“It’s ok, because she is only going
‘down the street’”…”Thank God she’s staying in state”… “She’s 5 miles down the
road”…. Does any of these things make you feel better? Does it really matter if
she is 5 miles down the road or 500? Is it really the distance that they are from
home base? I agree that I would die if she was going to college out of state. I
already have planned on what will happen if the boys go out of state and I have
two more years to worry about it. The odds that all of my kids will attend
Arizona colleges are pretty slim. I don’t even want to be in Arizona. I want
some sand in my toes and beachy tossed curls in my hair (wait we aren’t talking
about me yet)… What it boils down to is that the distance doesn’t really matter
when another kid leaves the house. It isn’t about WHERE they are. It isn’t
about how quickly we can get to each other if we need to be. In a world of so
many internet options is anyone ever really far away anyways? I mean I can
stalk her/their Instagram, Snapchat, and Facebook if I want to see what the
cool kids are up to these days; I do it now and she is only 17 steps upstairs.
A parent that does not have a child leaving the so-called nest will never
understand that it doesn’t matter how near or far they are when they step out
into that great big world. What matters is that the four walls of your home and
life as you know it are tumbling down. In 17 steps I can walk into the world
that defines Ashley. I can open her bedroom door and step over mounds and
mounds of clothes on the floor to discover her buried under a pile of blankets
in her bed. I can ask her how her day or night was and ask her if she wants
breakfast, lunch, or dinner. I can see that she spent the night in a Kardashian
marathon on her tv. I can see that she must have gone downstairs and made
herself a bagel in the middle of the night as pieces of it remain on her
bedside table. In 17 steps I can see her makeup vanity, her messy closet, her
empty shampoo bottles, her curling irons and brushes, her music choices, her
high school memories scattered on cork boards. In 17 steps I can see what
defines Ashley. Then those walls are broken down… and life as you know it isn’t
the life that you know. Distance to college isn’t the issue. It’s knowing that
this is the time that you prepared for all those years. Did I teach them enough
about kindness and empathy? Did I demonstrate enough strength? Did I show them
the road to happiness and friendships? Did they learn to lock doors and open
hearts? Did they learn the importance of dedication and relaxation? Do they
know how to clean bathrooms and bedrooms? When they are hungry will they have
someone to eat with? Will they be ok if they are alone? Will they be confident
in a crowd? Will they make new friends? Will they find their classes? Will they
participate in school events like assemblies, and sorority rush, and
volleyball, and dorm meetings, and football games? Will they know how to do all
the things that I used to schedule for them? Did I teach them how to do these
things? Are they ready? Am I ready? So we pack up the Uhaul with pieces of Ashley’s
life. The comforts of home neatly compiled into moving boxes…the important
stuff goes and the life she’s leaving behind stays in her old room and she
prepares to scatter herself into her new life…her new home… into new walls that
will hold new memories…a new beginning…a new Ashley. And it turns out that it
doesn’t matter if she were going to a foreign country or down the street. What
it’s really about is change…and change can be hard. I think of it as a ‘How to
Parent’ test. A parent graduation of sorts. Did I do my best at the most
important job that there is? Did I fill her up with everything she needs to be
a good person. A kind person. Not just a successful student or the life of the
party. Did I make a GOOD person? A KIND human?
So as she steps out onto this big blue marble that we live on I can only hope
that she can look back at her childhood and the memories made in these four
walls and think ‘What would mom do?’…”How would mom handle this?” and if she
doesn’t know the answers or it gets to hard she can look behind her and see the
trails of crumbs that I’ve left to lead her back to me to find those answers….I
guess THAT is one of the benefits of being ‘just down the street’.
