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The Girl turned 17 over the weekend. She took her driving test Monday morning, managing to pass even the parallel parking part. Tuesday evening, she drove herself to a training session for her new job.
It’s beginning to hit me that we have one year left with her before she heads off to college.
She’s the last one.
When The Boy left, that was tough. It felt like there was a 6-foot-7 hole in the house. He exudes a no-nonsense positivity, a sort of can-do spirit with an offhand confidence. When he left, we felt it. But we still had her. We were still full-time parents, as we have been for 20 years. We still are, but only for one more year.
TG is ready, even allowing for the occasional knowledge gaps that come from having been born in 2004. (“How do you skip tracks on a record?” Uh, you don’t …) She’s uncommonly self-possessed for her age -- or any age, really -- and she has a clear sense of who she is. She has a loyal friend group, a keen eye for injustice, a sense of humor all her own and one of the most sensitive BS detectors in the business. She’s eager to get on with it. I consider that a sign that we did something right.
But I’ll miss her something awful.
That’s okay. It’s part of the deal. I’d rather she spread her wings and grow into herself than stay here and be frustrated. My theory of parenting, which I inherited from my mom, is that the point of parenting is to get the kids to the point that they don’t need you. If they’re able to function in the world as capable adults and good people, then you’ve done your job. Admittedly, there’s a lot of luck involved, too. But I can see TG straining at the confines of home every single day. It’s almost time.
After TW and I got married, our family gradually got bigger. First came The Boy. Then The Girl. Then The Dog. Now The Boy is off to college and The Dog has crossed the rainbow bridge. We were two, then three, then four, then five. Then four. Then three. Soon, two.
Those young-kid years were all-consuming. They were exhausting. The house is much quieter now.
TG almost didn’t make it. She spent the first week of her life in the NICU. I remember the sight of the IV in her head. Seeing your infant daughter in the NICU, and not being able to do a damn thing about it, clarifies your priorities really fast. I remember seeing other babies in there who had been there for months, and seeing their parents come in to be with them. There’s a respectful silence in that room unlike any other. The nurses there somehow got us through. To this day, I will not entertain anything bad being said of nurses.
Now TG is a remarkable young woman. She’s just about ready to start finding her own way in the world. I wish we could have done a better job of making the world worthy of her, but I’m sure she’ll step up. She led walkouts against school shootings when she was in the eighth grade. We have photos of her with Cory Booker and X González at March for Our Lives rallies. She will make her presence felt.
But also her absence. We’ll feel that, too.
