Farewell dinner
She is going back to college. To Massachusetts. Sophomore year.
I think this is supposed to get easier. Instead, it seems to get harder. Probably because it is becoming easier for her to go. Does this make sense?
Lucy is a sophomore. When she chose to attend a school so far away, I was thrilled and terrified. Thrilled because I knew it would toss her into untested waters. Terrified because it would toss her into untested waters. I have always stressed to her that life is for living. That we must walk that plank now and again. Do what is hard. Step away from our nests, our comfort zones.
If she was in Massachusetts, I could not get to her quickly. She would learn to solve problems and learn without the cushion of coming home every night.
She not only rose to my expectations, she surpassed them. As soon as she checked into her dorm room (with a dorm mate who would serve for a year but no more, thank you) she looked for outside activities to join. She found a frisbee team. This filled her need to play a team sport but not stress her out. This was just for fun, although her team was competitive. She tried out for the debate team, warning me that most were not accepted, especially not freshmen. And made the team.
She went to her classes and tried to figure out what to major in, had went in undeclared. She played with the idea of majoring in math, in political science, in environmental engineering. Halfway through the year, she decided that she really loved the idea of international relations. Wasn't sure if she wanted to center on nutrition, the environment, or political diplomacy. As of now, she is thinking that she might want to center on ecology. There is so much to think about.
She has fallen in love. She goes to women's marches. She studies hard. She gets exceptional grades, makes the dean's list. She didn't come home for Spring Break, instead went to a frisbee tournament in South Carolina. She told me that while she'll come home for Thanksgiving and Christmas this year, that she thinks she might not come home for Spring or Summer break next year. She might like to travel. See Europe. Backpack around on the cheap. Count on the kindness of strangers.
This both delights and horrifies me. Because I worked hard to raise this child to have traveling feet. I told her over and over and over again to GET OUT IN THE WORLD. And now that she is doing just that, there is this part of me that wants to pull her back to us, tell her not to go. To play it safe. Stay home. Have dinners with us. Breakfasts. Lunches. Cookies. To play card games and read out loud from books to me. To share funny stories. To have some adventures at home instead.
But, it's too late. She is off and running and delighting in the freedom of her flying toes. And, while my eyes are full of tears, my heart is bursting with pride.
That is her, I think. Our Lucy Pie. Our flying girl.
Godspeed, Lucy. I love you.
I think this is supposed to get easier. Instead, it seems to get harder. Probably because it is becoming easier for her to go. Does this make sense?
Lucy is a sophomore. When she chose to attend a school so far away, I was thrilled and terrified. Thrilled because I knew it would toss her into untested waters. Terrified because it would toss her into untested waters. I have always stressed to her that life is for living. That we must walk that plank now and again. Do what is hard. Step away from our nests, our comfort zones.
If she was in Massachusetts, I could not get to her quickly. She would learn to solve problems and learn without the cushion of coming home every night.
She not only rose to my expectations, she surpassed them. As soon as she checked into her dorm room (with a dorm mate who would serve for a year but no more, thank you) she looked for outside activities to join. She found a frisbee team. This filled her need to play a team sport but not stress her out. This was just for fun, although her team was competitive. She tried out for the debate team, warning me that most were not accepted, especially not freshmen. And made the team.
She went to her classes and tried to figure out what to major in, had went in undeclared. She played with the idea of majoring in math, in political science, in environmental engineering. Halfway through the year, she decided that she really loved the idea of international relations. Wasn't sure if she wanted to center on nutrition, the environment, or political diplomacy. As of now, she is thinking that she might want to center on ecology. There is so much to think about.
She has fallen in love. She goes to women's marches. She studies hard. She gets exceptional grades, makes the dean's list. She didn't come home for Spring Break, instead went to a frisbee tournament in South Carolina. She told me that while she'll come home for Thanksgiving and Christmas this year, that she thinks she might not come home for Spring or Summer break next year. She might like to travel. See Europe. Backpack around on the cheap. Count on the kindness of strangers.
This both delights and horrifies me. Because I worked hard to raise this child to have traveling feet. I told her over and over and over again to GET OUT IN THE WORLD. And now that she is doing just that, there is this part of me that wants to pull her back to us, tell her not to go. To play it safe. Stay home. Have dinners with us. Breakfasts. Lunches. Cookies. To play card games and read out loud from books to me. To share funny stories. To have some adventures at home instead.
But, it's too late. She is off and running and delighting in the freedom of her flying toes. And, while my eyes are full of tears, my heart is bursting with pride.
That is her, I think. Our Lucy Pie. Our flying girl.
Godspeed, Lucy. I love you.
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