Transitions

TODAY is a day of transitions. 

I think I want to go back to bed.  If I do that, will today go away and begone?

Today is the day my daughter graduates.  It's 7 a.m. as I sit here in my quiet house nursing a cup of coffee.  In an hour, I have to go pick up the balloon bouquet.  In two and a half hours, my house will fill with all the friends and family that are going with us to the field where the ceremony will be held.  In four hours, the ceremony will start (and we will see if my Kleenex stash will hold out).  In six to seven hours, depending on how long the presenters decide to talk in between the three hundred plus students, it will be done.  Thirteen years of school, brought to a close.  Eighteen years, brought to a transition.  And in August, my child will leave.  It's already begun.

How did this happen so fast??

Two months ago she started the pulling away process.  She's been nearly unliveable.  I guess maybe I have too.  I hate this.  I want her to go.  I want her to stay.  I want it to be the way it's been for eighteen years - mother and daughter, two best friends.  All of  a sudden it's different.  In the last month, she's had a major secret from me, something that's never happened before.  She's pulling away, and I hate it.  I know it has to be, but I just wasn't ready.

In a way it's a good thing.  Her brother's been in her shadow since he was born.  She's always been the gregarious one, and he the quiet one.  She did all his talking.  Now that she's gone more and more, he's out of his room more and more, and we get the privelege of getting to know him.  I'm finding that I never really knew him.  She always needed more attention, so he faded into the background.  It's going to be a lot of fun and so rewarding to catch up and make up for those years I've missed out with him. 

And it's going to be so much nicer in a house without all the constant drama that seems to cling to her like a cloak, sweeping through the house in a thunderstorm, all flash and noise, whenever she comes through.  I won't miss that.  At least I think I won't. 

I guess it's telling that she finally feels like it's time for her to pull away and become her own woman, to move into her new life and destiny.  We have gone through so much in this lifetime.  So much garbage, so much heartache and drama.  It's been all we can do to cling together like survivors in a lifeboat.  If we hadn't been so close I don't think we could have made it.  But it wasn't until my divorce, until after B and I got together and things calmed down, that she began talking seriously about college.  It was as if we could all finally relax and move into those new phases of life that we'd always dreamed about but could never imagine.  She told me once, after things settled down, that now she could feel safe about leaving me and not feel like she was abandoning me.  How that hurt!  To find out that your child felt that she had to sacrifice her own hopes and dreams to stay home and make sure that her parent at least had an ally in a bad and crazy household.  But that's all over, and the plans are made and paid for.  College is a reality, and she's gone in August.

Silly me.  I thought we'd be able to hold onto the shiny happy feelings forever.  I didn't realize that to move on she'd have to leave us behind. 

It's hard.  I will miss her.  I want to strangle her, I want to hug her, I want to shake her, I want her to be my little girl again.  And I'm so proud that she's made it.  My straight A student, with her five Advanced Placement (and college credits) under her belt, her part time job and the summer internship she won - she's already running.  And somehow I missed the starting line.  I didn't get to wave her off. 

Today she's pausing for a moment to catch that next piece for her toolbox - the diploma.  I might have missed the starting gate, but I can catch her here, for one shining moment before she's off again. 

Bittersweet.