My younger daughter is away at college this year. I am glad that she is growing up and moving on. That is, after all, the whole purpose of having children. Pets stay, but children grow up and leave. If they do not leave, then you have problems.
But, still, it is a change.
My daughter's room is just outside my room. When I walk to or from my bedroom, I must go by her door. Ever since we moved here, my daughter has been in this house and in that room and I could look to her door to see if she was in, I could knock to see if she was busy, I could go in to talk with her.
But now, the door just sits open. Her stuff is still in the room, but the door just sits open day after day. Every time I go to my room or leave my room, the door is there. It is open, the room is dark, and my daughter is off at college. Sure, she comes home sometimes and the door has its old meaning, but that is just a small break.
I cannot talk to her whenever I want to. I cannot walk in and see her. If she has a bad day, I do not even know unless she calls or e-mails or posts on Facebook. If she has a good day, I do not get to share it. She is off at college.
And, yes, I miss her. Part of our life, as God has made it to be, is that children leave. They grow up and move on and we have to let them do so. They have to deal with finding a way to jump their car when the battery dies. They have to cope with teachers and neighbors and roommates, and I cannot do those things for them. I cannot, I will not, be a "helicopter parent" and try to hover around and rescue her. She has a life to live.
And I have a door. When college is over, of course, then we will remake the room. She will take her stuff with her to wherever she lives. The room will become a guest room with generic decoration. The door will cease to be special.
In the meantime, there it sits. My daughter's door. Reminding me of my daughter's future.
But, still, it is a change.
My daughter's room is just outside my room. When I walk to or from my bedroom, I must go by her door. Ever since we moved here, my daughter has been in this house and in that room and I could look to her door to see if she was in, I could knock to see if she was busy, I could go in to talk with her.
But now, the door just sits open. Her stuff is still in the room, but the door just sits open day after day. Every time I go to my room or leave my room, the door is there. It is open, the room is dark, and my daughter is off at college. Sure, she comes home sometimes and the door has its old meaning, but that is just a small break.
I cannot talk to her whenever I want to. I cannot walk in and see her. If she has a bad day, I do not even know unless she calls or e-mails or posts on Facebook. If she has a good day, I do not get to share it. She is off at college.
And, yes, I miss her. Part of our life, as God has made it to be, is that children leave. They grow up and move on and we have to let them do so. They have to deal with finding a way to jump their car when the battery dies. They have to cope with teachers and neighbors and roommates, and I cannot do those things for them. I cannot, I will not, be a "helicopter parent" and try to hover around and rescue her. She has a life to live.
And I have a door. When college is over, of course, then we will remake the room. She will take her stuff with her to wherever she lives. The room will become a guest room with generic decoration. The door will cease to be special.
In the meantime, there it sits. My daughter's door. Reminding me of my daughter's future.