College drop off one is in the books. How was it? Beautifully sad. After the final hugs, we finally boarded the airport shuttle bus. Eighteen made it especially tough because she wouldn’t walk away. She just waited and watched, never budging. I guess I should have known that was coming, but Fifteen had to inform me that Eighteen’s always stood frozen in time watching whatever conveyances take her loved ones away. Points off for not knowing that.

I was surprised by the GalPal’s relative calmness. Later she informed me she’d been crying quite a bit in private over the last few weeks. Her spirituality made all the difference. Her epiphany? Ultimately, Eighteen belongs to God. We’ve just been taking care of her the last eighteen years. She’s also convinced the distance will prove instrumental in Eighteen assuming adult responsibilities.

Lots of thoughts were swirling around in my head on the shuttle bus ride to the airport. The overarching one was how beautifully sad the separation was. I suppose some parents are glad when their young adult children finally leave the nest. That, in my mind, would be sad sad.

It was a reminder that in life whenever we choose intimacy (by partnering with someone for long stretches of life or by choosing to reproduce), we inevitably increase the risk of painful separation brought about by human fallibility and/or the natural passage of time.

Another thought was how nice it was that I didn’t have to give the final pep talk I had tentatively planned titled, “Work Even Harder, Honor your Grandparents, Don’t Eat Too Many Chocolate Cocoa Puffs, and Be Sure to Get Enough Sleep” because we spent four days together, days marked by dinners out where I told a few college and life parables that communicated everything I had wanted to. I know her well, she listened carefully, I felt no need to elaborate.

The weirdest thing about the four days was how comfortable Eighteen was in her own skin, even when surrounded by her sometimes annoying sister, mother, (and always) annoying father. Day four, after moving in to her dorm room, I suggested she go to the dorm’s dining hall for lunch and “meet us back here” by the student store cafe. “No, I’d rather eat with you guys.” It wasn’t the decision of a shy, anxious, introverted first year, but that of a young woman who appreciates her family and wanted to enjoy our visit to the very end. Despite the antics of her perpetually silly family, there was never a hint of embarrassment, just a mix of fondness and gratitude.

A silver lining of the trip was the thoughtful way Fifteen seemed to process a visit to a neighboring college, her dad’s dinnertime parables, and her sister’s first day of college orientation. She’s always done well in school, but now I think she’s even more motivated to do her best.

The first five-six days at home have been different, but nice. Last week I bought a smaller piece of halibut, only half a gallon of chocolate milk, and the GalPal and I have had enjoyed more time alone.

And the inevitable, natural passing of time marches on.

Left to Right. . . Two College Women and a High Schooler Ponder Their Future

Man enough to admit it. Tearing up listening to Eighteen playing the piano and singing downstairs. Thinking how much I’ll miss that. I’ve been suppressing how much I’m going to miss her daily presence when she leaves for college because the galpal has probably been emotional enough for both of us.

Tired of compensating.

Like the labradoodle, Eighteen is nearly always a positive presence. She was absent from school the day they distributed the “How to be a Surly Adolescence” guidebook. She learned early on to roll with my sarcasm (and return serve). Yesterday she said, “I didn’t know you’re going to Florida next week, I thought you were going to Yakima.” “That’s because you’re a self-absorbed teen, you’re really not expected to know those things.” Warm smile.

I’m going to miss her friends who poured in this week as a wisdom teeth extraction support team. I got them to eat leftover birthday cake and suggested they wash it down with chocolate milk so that they “could just get the freshmen fifteen over with”. Not stopping there, I suggested they go home and set their scales on 15lbs to ease the “psychological transition”. Of course I could only kid because they really could use a few more lbs.

Eighteen never seemed TOO embarrassed by me. She may have even enjoyed having me guest teach in her elementary classrooms and help coach her high school swim team (at least in 9th and 10th grade).

Come on man, toughen up. It’s a part of the natural cycle of life and it sure beats the alternative of being stuck at home without much vision. She’s going to kill it at college and in life. Couldn’t be more proud.

The silver lining is I’m going to savor Fifteen’s next three years. Center of attention. Groovy friends too who are at the age where they sometimes enjoy and always tolerate my antics.

Don’t even want to think about three years from now when she starts charting her own course.