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I Am the One Millionth Mother



Cadillac Ranch outside Amarillo, TX
Last night I attended a practice concert by the high school choir. My daughter sings with the choir and this morning they were bound for an out of town competition performing the songs that they aired for us last night. While we were waiting for the show to begin, a mother whose daughter has been friends with our daughter for five or six years, leaned in toward me where we sat on our gray folding chairs and said these daunting words to me: "Is Delaney going to college?" I responded with an almost too high pitched "I hope so!"



Now I don't know about you, but when I was approaching my senior year of high school I had these aspirations of leaving my funny farm of a family in the dust as I ventured into the easy sunset. Responsibilities were the least of what I considered for my potentially carefree future, and yet I knew enough to picture some hard work ahead. And work hard I did as I had a job simultaneous with my college career and paid my way through one semester after the next. No dorm life for me either; I found a well matched roommate within the first month of being on campus - I'd been living previous to that with a great aunt who had not a clue what to do with an eighteen year old in her midst (she once proclaimed that I left hair on her bathroom floor! of course now that I have a sixteen year old, hair is the least of what I find on her bathroom floor). Now apartment life in the bohemian city of San Francisco where I went to school was not without incident by far. My roommate would on a whim paint the bathroom bright orange and olive green in the middle of the night. I would stumble in groggily the next morning to find beanstalks painted wildly across the psychedelic orange backdrop. By the way, this was the eighties and, yes, I inhaled. There were liquored up costume parties in that apartment of ours that were very, very loud, and once there was a gentleman caller who scaled our fire escape and pronounced he was Cyrano de Bergerac. Someone stole our bicycles from the garage under the apartment building. We often ate nothing but oatmeal and baked potatoes for weeks.



So, can I calmly imagine my daughter moving on to unforeseen circumstances such as I have just described? No. Do I want her to find her way through the inevitable labyrinth of a new city for home with "good" study habits that I don't force upon her as she rolls her eyes and complains. Yes. Her father proclaimed that he was going to move to Portland or St. Petersburg with her (two possible college site choices) in case she needed help with her laundry. I rolled my eyes when he said this and then worried a little bit that he might be serious. But I admit to frequent, frightening thoughts of the car her friend is driving down the ski mountain hitting an icy patch and soaring through air as she and Delaney have no clue about following too closely, hydroplaning, or possible use of the emergency brake in this situation. The other mother in the chorus room last night might has well have leaned toward me and said "is your child going to light her hair on fire, give birth to triplets, and swim the Pacific to Hawaii?" 



Fortunately, I have a friend whose daughters have already weathered college, have jobs in New York and Los Angeles, and she is a constant mentor in speaking to what I can expect. And then too I listen to her panic sometimes about the same far away daughters and this calms me strangely enough. I recognize that I am the one millionth mom to question whether her child is "ready" for the big bad wolf of a world, but when I saw her leave this morning with her hair curled and her black choir dressed zipped into her coat bag, her English homework in her backpack, and as she said "I love you very much, Mom" before she departed, I saw a very grown up girl stepping out. Okay, so I packed her a lunch last night and drew a heart on the napkin. What more can a mother do?

Comments

  1. MekaMarch 11, 2012 at 8:56 PM

    It is very timely for me to read this Robyn as Dyl and I face this same scenario. It is no less uncertain for parents of a teenage boy. And even though we have the occasional reassurance of his maturity he also reminds us often of his lack of experience in the world. We bravely stand by as he perches on the ledge of adulthood...what more can we do. Our hands will always be there outstretched just in case. He will enter the wild wonderful world one way or another, hopefully gently and gracefully.

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  2. Robyn HuntMarch 12, 2012 at 9:22 PM

    Oh, Meka, it breaks and broadens my heart to read what you wrote in response. So true. Sons and daughters "perched on the ledge of adulthood". Aptly put. Thanks for visiting the blog and I hope you'll come back and comment some more!

    ReplyDelete

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