Tomorrow marks a significant milestone as we prepare to welcome a remarkable young woman back from her summer adventure. Our 16-year-old daughter has spent five transformative weeks in Lyon, France, with her extended family. I can already sense that she’ll return to us a bit older and wiser.
As we stood at the airport, the moment of farewell loomed heavily. “I have something for you,” she said, her voice wavering. “It’s just a little note, nothing major.” In the late June air, nerves fluttered as she rummaged through her bag, producing two envelopes—one for her dad and me and the other for her brother. When her voice broke, it triggered the floodgates of my emotions.
Was she truly ready for this journey?
I hugged her tightly and watched as she confidently approached the security checkpoint, passport in hand, ready to embrace the adventures that awaited her in a land steeped in culture and language that has always fascinated her. Born in Germany and having lived in both Dubai and London, her passport is a vibrant testament to her experiences. She walked away without glancing back, swallowed by the crowd of travelers, leaving me with a sense of both pride and anxiety.
Though she’s no stranger to travel, this was her first time journeying alone. I couldn’t shake the worry—would she feel lonely? Would panic set in without me there? I remember vividly when she was just 8 years old, and I knew she wasn’t ready for the world. A traumatic experience involving a fall from a pogo stick left her with a bloody mouth and a shattered tooth. Racing to the ER, I felt the weight of motherhood’s fragility. That day taught her that life can be unpredictable and unfair. In my heart, I learned that life doesn’t seek permission to impart its lessons—especially the harsh ones.
After that incident, she distanced herself from pogo sticks and cautiously returned to her other hobbies. Watching her bike away toward high school filled me with a bittersweet mix of pride and apprehension. “Be careful!” I called after her, my voice tinged with worry.
The reality is, as parents, we often cling to the illusion of control, trying to shield our children from life’s challenges. From ensuring they’re safely strapped into car seats to employing parental controls against online threats, we strive to protect them. I harbored an unrealistic desire to spare my daughter from the world’s cruelties.
But then, during her freshman year, a classmate she admired tragically took his own life. I longed to absorb that sorrow, but I could only watch as my daughter grappled with a pain I couldn’t shield her from. I wanted to be the superhero mom, the one who could stretch herself to protect her child from harm, but I realized I wasn’t equipped to do so.
The illusion of control began to crumble long ago, and yet, it still taunts me at times, like a mischievous goblin. Yet I know that a self-reliant young woman is returning home tomorrow. Interestingly, she decided to bring along her childhood companion, a stuffed rabbit named Big Ears, tucked away in her backpack. Unlike life, Big Ears offers her predictable comfort.
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In summary, as our daughter embarks on her journey back to us, I am reminded of the delicate balance between pride and worry that comes with parenthood. It’s about allowing them to grow while holding onto the lessons learned through the years.
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