On Saturday, my beautiful daughter, my pride and joy, became a college graduate. It looks like I have successfully managed to lure her back home with promises of matching aprons and convivial days spent weeding the vegetable garden together and canning tomatoes, just the two of us. I’m sure I’m looking forward to all that more than she is, but she’s totally game and pretends it sounds awesome.
When she left home four years ago, I went unexpectedly a little dark, and I felt the lack of her happy presence so acutely, every day. I cried a lot. It ached. This, I know, is what mothers do, and there is nothing for it but to cry. I wore a pendant of hers, left behind, because that way it lay near my heart.
Now she’s home again, with eight lawn and leaf bags of laundry and mountains of books, and a wealth of experience and new wisdom. She’s home. She has eight different kinds of shampoo. I’m so glad, so so glad.