Friday was my daughter’s senior prom. She looked so grown up in her simple, yet elegant floor-length black dress, with hair piled atop her head. Like her friends, she traded in her sneakers for the the highest heels imaginable, as they attended the formal event. It was a strange combination of pride and sadness I felt, watching these almost unrecognizable young women go off together.
Earlier this month, she had her final choral performance with an amazing group she’s sung with for the past ten years. She’s landed a summer job away from home and exams are right around the corner. She’s accepted a university offer far enough away it might as well be Europe. She’s so excited. Soon she’ll be registering for courses and finding out what residence arrangements are.
She’s been stretching her baby bird wings for a while now, getting stronger and more confident every year. And now it’s almost time for her to jump out of the nest, and experience all that life has to offer
Except I’m not ready.
I’ve been preparing for – and avoiding thinking about – this moment since my first son left the nest four years ago. When number two followed him two years later, I figured I was getting good at this. By number three, I’d be a pro.
So what is it about this one? Is it the distance? British Columbia is a long way from southern Ontario. She’s my last, so maybe it’s the recognition of a phase of life being over. And of course, she’s a girl, and while that shouldn’t matter, somehow it seems to be different with her.
Unlike many of my friends, whose kids also head off to university in the fall, because my daughter works at a camp away from home in the summers, I essentially lose her by the third week of June. Yes, she’ll be home in August, but if it’s like it was with her brothers, it’s a quick 48 hour turnaround and then off to school. We’ll be flying out to Kelowna, not driving. Nevertheless, that plane ride home is going to feel awfully long.
So I’m not going to think about it for a while. Instead, I’m going to savour every last minute I have with her “full time” under my roof. And remember with a smile, that when those young ladies all arrived back at my house post-prom, and they unstrapped the high heels, shed the long dresses, and stripped off all the makeup, they transformed back into the young girls I know. There are probably a few lessons still to learn, and moments to share before they fly off. I want to be present and remember every one of them.
