Buckle and hang on
It’s sitting in the driveway, mocking me. It makes me feel older
than I am and yet ironically, will eventually free me from some of
my grown up responsibility.
Buckle and hang on
It’s sitting in the driveway, mocking me. It makes me feel older than I am and yet ironically, will eventually free me from some of my grown up responsibility.
The Girl is a proud owner of a new used car, and a newly acquired learner’s permit. At first, I was hesitant to let her behind the wheel. After all, this was the same girl who when she wanted to run away, put her cat in a suitcase to bring with her. It really wasn’t that long ago. But then I thought that the DMV might know something I don’t. The DMV seems to be the barometer of when it’s time to let go just a little bit, nudging reluctant parents into cutting seemingly permanent apron strings. A government appointed timer.
The Husband has been the one to take her out to practice driving. I am not sure my nerves could handle it. Usually, they come back smiling, but last night they came back and neither was speaking to the other. At least this way, for once, I am not the bad guy. It was bad enough that I made her take the cat out of the suitcase.
The Girl is on the precipice of independence and yet turns around to make sure that we are still there pretty often. Sometimes, she is not happy that we are still there, and sometimes, she will surprise me by saying that she isn’t sure she wants to go away to college because then she will have to leave home. Most days, I am happy she said that, and on others, I am counting the days until her high school graduation. It depends on the day and how much attitude she gave me when I told her to clean the kitchen after supper.
The Husband usually stays out of our way when we have our Mother-Daughter differences of opinion. When The Girl was only 4 years old and we fought over whether shorts were suitable in Tennessee November, he warned me that she and I were so similar, that our battle of wills would only get worse. It doesn’t happen often, but when he’s right, he’s right. Yet, we seem to be attached by those invisible strings and we’re each secretly okay with that. Sometimes, the secret gets out.
After spending five days apart, while The Girl attended a leadership conference, on seeing each other across the crowded room at the parents’ luncheon, we ran to each other and cried, so happy to see the other. That was only five days.
Her new used car will take her places that The Husband and I are not invited to, and for longer periods of time. It will take her from us and bring her back for holidays that she may or may not want to come home for. She and we will be grateful for its ability to take her from and return her to where she belongs; with us, fighting over kitchen clean-up, suitable clothing, and cats that don’t belong in suitcases.
Happy motoring, Katie.
