Well, it’s set. We have decided on a date for the Graduation open house. The invitation to the Senior All Night Party has been sent back in. Cap and gown have been ordered. Immediate relatives have been given the date for the official graduation ceremony. As her father says, all my eldest has to do now is actually graduate.
Senior year is such a tough time in any person’s life. It’s a time of some firsts but many more lasts. It’s hard for them to concentrate on what they are finishing because there is this big, new, shiny thing hung there in front of them: college and finally living away from home. I don’t really remember my Senior year other than as a time of impatient waiting. I was so ready to move on that the last year seemed a waste.
That made it easier to leave behind all the familiar and friendly, all of the people and places I had been around for all my life. Without the chafing feeling of needing to move on, perhaps it would have been just too sad to end my childhood. I don’t remember moving from child to adult, myself. If I had it to do again, I might savor the many things I would never be able to do again in the same way. Adulthood is so tantalizing, so desired, so coveted by the young, and my daughter is now the one ready to move on. I see it in her, and so keep silent about my small regrets; she would probably politely discount my words anyway. I am older, how can I understand?
I am left here, mourning it for her. Quietly.