Daddy musings

[quislet]

I took my babies to school today.

 

 

Well, last night and this morning, really.  I drove niban to the high school this morning before the sun came up.  Neither of us were fully awake, and half the ride was blanketed in silence.  Just after the first traffic light, it dawned on me that these are those precious moments that we parents grieve when our children leave us, whatever the reason.  We talked of how we felt, how we slept, nothing of actual substance, but I realized as she closed the door and walked to the school in frozen darkness that we talked as adults.  My baby is grown.  Oh, that’s not to say there isn’t parenting left to do, but she’s no longer that adult-to-be that I’ve been waiting to meet for so long.  She’s here, now.  She has her own mind and heart, her own beliefs and values.  I had the honor to help her find them, but they’re hers now, not mine.

 

Last night the bright, cold moon smiled down on all travelers as I drove ichiban over the Blue Ridge back to university.  I was hurried and distracted as we left, and forgot to fill the gas tank before we departed suburbia for the hill country.  We were each texting and phoning loved ones in the moon-dappled darkness, and we pulled off in some tiny town, following the broken promise of a blue gas station sign.  First one town, then the next lacked that which we increasingly needed, the little low-gas light on my dash seeming to grow brighter every mile.  I suppose it was the vulnerability borne of this hint of my desperation that revealed another critical moment not to lose, a chance to connect with my eldest here in the middle of her metamorphosis to independence.  She’s been off to a rocky start, the severed umbilical of day-to-day contact and support from us impacting her far more than any of us ever expected.  She’s grown, but she’s still my baby.  She’s practically out of the house, but there’s still some parenting left to do.  She’s been an adult a little while now, but she still has need of parents to rely on from afar.  We talked conversationally, grabbed a sandwich to to, she riding an impeccable shotgun, as always.

 

Over the weekend, I’ve thought a lot about parents.  A dear friend was visiting, and we shared about the over-involvement of her parents as well as the near-complete estrangement of mine.  One of my greatest fears has always been that when my girls are out on their own, I would find myself one of those parents, either overbearing or estranged.  We’ve always seen our girls as adults-to-be, always sought to groom them gently with the wisdom we’ve acquired both from and in spite of our own parents.  I’ve spent years enjoying the privilege of watching my children become themselves, helping to guide them to be women I would be proud to call friends.  If you’ve met my girls, then you know as well as I do that we’ve done well.  This still that moment before the roller coaster drops, full of expectation that you feel in the pit of your stomach.  Now is that pregnant moment full of hope, joy and fear when a baby bird stands on the edge of the nest and stretches her wings. 

 

I miss my dad.

 

Comments

[ladybarnard.livejournal.com]

*hugs* I still can't believe they've grown up so much. I miss you guys...

[dreamtigress.livejournal.com]

Ya'll have done an awesome job. ::hugs::

[satismagic.livejournal.com]

What a beautiful post. Your children are lucky to have such a great dad.

[pyroguysr.livejournal.com]

Somehow, I can't see either of you being estranged from those lovely, intelligent, sweet ladies. There is a bond there that those outside can see. You have managed the transitional tightrope walk of "parent/friend" well.

My son is my friend and I don't feel as if there isn't anything we can share. He's a good son and father of two now at age 27. I hope you have that kind of relationship with your two lovelies!

If all goes as planned... I get to do it again with three more giggly, laughing young'uns! WOOT!