The College Visit
The girls — or perhaps I should say young women — sit with me in an off-campus restaurant. One girl, my daughter, is a senior in high school. The other is in her second year of college, and is the daughter of one of my college roommates. The girls are laughing and talking. My daughter has bright eyes and asks many questions. My friend’s daughter is the sage mentor sharing her knowledge and experiences.
The idea for this dinner started a couple weeks earlier when my daughter signed up for an early morning college visit. We decided to go to campus the afternoon before the visit, so I texted my friend. “Do you think E will be available for dinner when M and I visit campus?” The exuberant reply led to a group chat and dinner plans.
Before dinner, we walk around the college town and E points out the late night cookie store and bars. She talks about the recent Halloween weekend and the party she attended. I walk a couple feet behind the girls. E turns to me. “I asked Mom if it was ok to tell you everything, and she said yes.” I smile. “Yes. You can tell us about everything.”
As we walk, I have my own memories of late night donut runs, trips to dance clubs, and hours sitting in college dorm rooms. This is not my alma mater, but the feelings are the same. The warm fall breeze hitting my face feels like the freedom of youth, freedom from my small town, freedom from high school schedules. I loved college. I loved setting my own schedule and ruling my own life. I only had myself to care for and my future to look forward to.
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Looking at the girls in front of me, I feel the years in the lines of my eyes. I would like to feel that excitement again — the excitement of having your whole life ahead of you. A wave of sadness washes over me. Though there are other students around me on the sidewalks, I feel alone.
Then M looks at me and smiles. We reach the restaurant and she whispers, “I love it here.” My heart melts. This is my baby girl and she is finding her place in the world. I am so proud of the woman she is becoming. I’m also proud of the life I made for myself.
We continue the conversation over dinner. We ask E a hundred questions and she is excited to be an unofficial ambassador of her college. We visit her dorm room and tell her goodnight.
The next day, we have the official college visit and M meets students within her major. She hears about the program she wants to join, and meets professors. She told me she wasn’t getting any “merch” until she made a decision. Our last stop on campus was the college bookstore, where she bought her merch — a t-shirt she carried proudly as we walked to our car.
When she moves into her dorm room next fall, I’m sure I will have tears. But some of those tears will contain the endless joy I have for this girl. For her freedom. For the future she has ahead of her.
And maybe this is a new beginning for me too. Maybe I’ll lay out a new future for me.
