Back to School

We took our baby, my riding buddy, back to college this afternoon and if this old daddy sounded sad yesterday, you ought to hear his Eeyore voice today. I remember the night she was born, when they rolled a huge x-ray machine into the room in the middle of the night after the three of us were already asleep. When later they dragged her down the dark hall for a phlebotomist who didn't seem to know a needle from a stick of spaghetti to draw some of her blood, he failed so miserably that I insisted that he stop after a few attempts and the pediatrician on call had to be called in to draw it. "The poor soul," as the doctor had called her after she was born had flared her nostrils slightly when she drew her first breaths, and we were tacitly led to believe by his tone and demeanor that she was in grave danger of not lasting the night with us. Next week she turns 19 and a few days ago she bought her first car which our friends were selling.

I wasn't really crazy about my little girl getting a big, old Jeep, but with today's weather I was only too glad that we had it to take her back in. Since she's only been driving since last year and not much in ice or snow we brought it back home for our mechanic to give it the once over, but after spring break she'll take it back to school with her and spare dear old dad those multiple trips to the fourth floor with armfuls of things and without the benefit of an elevator.

She goes to school in a picturesque place that reminds me of a portion of my grandpa's train platform at Christmastime. I picture her there, sometimes, standing right by the window where I took this picture, holding a cup of tea, looking at this same mountain, and perhaps remembering the special moments that she and I shared through her years of growing up. She went to the school I teach in for ten years and for the next four I took her to school each morning and picked her up at the end of her day. I was luckier than most dads in having gotten to spend so much time with her - just the two of us talking about all the things we never ran out of to talk about.

I'm going to miss her now that she's gone again. The month or so she spent at home just wasn't enough. What time we get together now is never going to be enough and yet, it must suffice. Her day in the sun is just beginning and I will not cast a shadow on it for my own sake. I'm proud of who she is - who she's becoming. Letting go is much harder than I thought it might be, but because she is of noble character I don't worry. I simply miss her, as much on the back of my bike as in the living room curled up on the sofa next to a cat.