It never ceases to amaze me how two people, born of the same parents and raised in the same household, can be so completely different.
Previously I have written about a daughter (Tick...Tick...Tick), but that was my younger one. My eldest worries me in a completely different way.
My first-born is the child I've never had to worry about. As a toddler she would never wander away from me (unlike her sister who walked out of the play area at a Cleveland Indian's baseball game because she wanted to go back to the seats...thank God a security got spotted her before she got very far - she was going the wrong direction!).
Anyway.
She's also the rare teenager who has her license but still asks for rides. She doesn't go out a lot with her friends. She's really a homebody.
I remember a parent/teacher conference during middle school. Hers were never stressful, just lots of comments about what a great kid she is. One teacher, however, said he wished she would take more risks, that sometimes she seemed to hold herself back.
You were right, Mr. Sheldon.
I'm in that wonderous, anxiety-provoking life transition during which the first child leaves the nest. She graduates high school this year, and there have been a lot of decisions to make. It's reminding me what a scary time of life that is - the first time your life is handed over to you. I watched her struggle with this and worried (it's what moms do) over whether she was ready, whether she would launch or need a push.
She had no idea what she wanted to study, so I suggested she pick an area of the country she wanted to see. She wanted to be near a city, especially one with major league baseball teams. It came down to 2 choices: Loyola University in Chicago or Baldwin-Wallace in suburban Cleveland. She fell in love with the Loyola campus, especially the glass study building right on Lake Michigan. But B-W had the advantage of being less than an hour away from home in the same town where her favorite teacher/mentor lives.
Besides being a homebody, my eldest would say she's shy. Change was tough when she was little, like going to kindergarten. Only one girl from her preschool was in her class. To ease the transition I would sometimes volunteer in her classroom. (Which totally didn't work, by the way. She would get way too upset when I had to leave, and she did NOT like sharing her mother!)
Anyway.
One day I was there during recess. The playground moniters were twirling a jumprope and kids were taking turns jumping in. I saw her watching them. She wanted to join in, but she had never done it before and there were a lot of people standing around watching. I stood in line with her and, when the timing was right, encouraged her to jump in.
She did.
Friends, I wish I could share the mental picture I have of the smile on her face. She has this beautific special smile that only comes out when she's especially proud or happy. Her dimples just pop out. That was the smile she had that day.
She chose Loyola, and for all the right reasons. She knows that it will be scary, but good to get away. It will be away, but not too far, and in a neighborhood we know since my brother lives a few blocks away. She'll be in a big city, but in a controlled environment. And I think she will love it.
I'm so proud. She is launching. Not being pushed.
She jumped.
