Lauren is my second youngest. Fifteen, that's how "young" she is, which doesn't feel very young at all. This week she went to New York on an orchestra trip. I dropped her off at three in the morning. We were right on time, so I thought it was unusual that there weren't too many cars lined up yet. But the closer I got, I saw the students lined up out the door as they waited for their bags to be checked. Where were all the parents standing around in the cold, grumpy and impatient waiting for them to board the bus?
I looked at Lauren and asked, "Am I supposed to drop you off and let you go - just like that? Do you want me to wait?"
She smiled and said, "No, that's okay. It's going to be real quick. Don't worry, we'll get on the bus in time."
Okaaaaay... but I wasn't really worried about that. It just felt so weird. When she was in kindergarten, every single day we stood outside the door, her tiny hand in mine. When the bell rang, she would dutifully get in line and silent tears would fall from those big brown eyes. No fuss or begging to take her with me; just a shy little girl taking her first baby steps towards independence. I know that was a long time ago, but still...
I looked to my fellow parents for cues. Yup, unload the bags and a quick hug seemed to be the drill. So, I gave Lauren just a little more pocket money and sneaked in a few extra moments with her as she fished her wallet out of her backpack. One last hug and I followed suit and joined the fleet of parents driving away.
I've always held on just a little longer with each phase of my kids growing up - especially with Lauren because she was my youngest for 6 years before her little sister came along. They say I'll look back one day and it'll feel like it went by in the blink of an eye, but I feel it now with each passing day. It's as if I'm standing on a subway platform with trains rushing by on either side of me, hair swept up in the swirling winds. It's a flurry of mixed emotions. I am so excited at the thought of her upcoming milestones on her journey as she finishes high school. I can't wait to see all that she will accomplish and where it leads her.
But my heart also aches, because oh, how I will miss her at the end of it all. I guess it's my turn to take steps toward letting her go.
I'll miss the "Hi Mom!" greeting when she walks through the door. And those times when she moves in close and lays her head on my shoulder while we're sitting on the couch. I'll miss my cry-at-every-movie-while-everyone-else-rolls-their-eyes buddy. I'll miss the almost shy way she comes to me when her heart is heavy, and her self-conscious flutter of her eyes as she unsuccessfully fights back tears. I'll miss all those times at the dinner table when have a good belly laugh. I'll miss those texts that end with three heart emojis. And man, I'll miss that sense of adventure that's still filled with an innocent and youthful joy. I'll miss all the crazy hairstyles (and colors) and her obsession with skin care and make up, baggy jeans, crop tops, and the Air Jordans she saved up all summer to buy. I'll miss her asking me to help tame her frizzy hair and give her side swept bangs, then wispy bangs, then curtain bangs. I'll miss watching her shine on stage during all her choir concerts. I'll miss all the "Mom, can you pick me up from my friend's house?" I might even miss all the clothes carelessly strewn about... maybe, we'll have to see on that one.
When I picked her up from her trip she was full of stories and excitement. I finally got to see all the pictures she didn't have time to send while she was busy making memories. And my breath caught in my throat seeing this blossoming young woman standing in the place of my once little girl. Funny how just a little bit of distance and the lens of a camera can do that. But the best part of it all was that tight hug when I told her how much we missed her and she answered with a heart-felt, "Me too! So much..."
She kept her promise, my little girl is still in there.
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