Dread

C. S. Lewis said, "Experience: the most brutal of teachers. But you learn, my God do you learn."

And what I'm experiencing this week is dread. The weekend of my youngest's departure to college is coming. I can't dig in my heels and slow time, though my heart tries. Mixed with the dread of her absence is the joy of seeing the young woman she's become.

How is it possible that two weeks before she leaves, that she becomes a delight to be around? We've had the sweetest, funniest, most enjoyable days that I can remember. It makes me wonder if the dread of losing her daily presence actually inspired a greater appreciation in the treasure of these fleeting days.

My perspective is possibly a little different. She is not my own, but the ten-year old cherub who wrapped herself around my waist at our wedding. She rode in the back seat of the mini-van on our honeymoon trip to meet my husband's family in Connecticut. Of the three stepdaughters I embraced, she was my truest and only experience of parenting, even though I missed all the baby days, toddler days, and firsts.

But there she is, in my heart, still under my arm, with her arms wrapped around my waist. She and Roger will drive for two days to take her to her dormitory and move her in while I stay at home. This is tough. It's joy and loss all at once. I'm so proud of her. She's truly kicked butt in the last few weeks preparing for her departure and working extra jobs. She's grown up by years in just a month, taking on adult responsibility for her own life and dream of college.

I'm proud. I'm sad. But mostly proud.

(c) 2011 Sheri Smith Bertolini