On the Road
6:30 am
There’s a movie that we got hooked on when the girls were little called Fly Away Home. On the surface it is about a young girl finding a clutch of Canada Goose eggs and raising them, only to learn that, having imprinted upon her, they will not fly South for the winter and leave her—thus ensues a tale that incorporates light aircraft, teaching geese to fly, and a hero’s welcome when they arrive south safely—all to the soaring strains of the Mary Chapin Carpenter song, 10,000 miles. But it is really a story of loss and recovery, of parent and child, of finding a home, but mostly of liberating the things you love to grow into who they are meant to be.
I just spent the last three days driving Megan to Dallas, TX so she can start her professional career there with a tech start up. And to be with the guy she loves. After nearly 4 years together, it wasn’t a surprise that they wanted to be in the same city—Blake got a great job in his hometown of Dallas early this past spring and started there this summer. Megan got a job this summer waiting tables and commenced her search for work focusing on both Philly and Dallas, but my chance encounter at a conference lead to her employment with a firm in Dallas—and so life works out the way it was meant to.
I said to a friend, “This is the definition of bittersweet.” I am so happy for her—a great opportunity with a growing company doing work that is meaningful and interesting in the same place where she wants to be. But we, of course, will miss her. I know rationally this is what kids are supposed to do, but my heart weeps a little thinking of her being 1400 miles away and not seeing her regularly. Yes, we have phone and FaceTime and texting—sending photos and tidbits daily, but nothing compares to wrapping my arms around her and feeling her close. The girls still kiss us goodnight when they’re home—a sweet family ritual—I know that now there will be fewer of those goodnight kisses. I know we’ll find a new normal…
So I am on an airplane writing this on my way home after helping her drive down and move her things to Dallas. She starts work tomorrow and I can’t wait to hear her excitement about this work she’ll be doing. And the discoveries she’ll make in her new city. The colleagues who will become friends, the friendships that will grow closer, her adventures in navigating adulthood. Listening to her worries and supporting her in the best way we can.
We raised her for this—to be independent and strong and smart and successful in life. In the past few weeks I’ve been impressed with how many of those lessons stuck—how she values politeness and how she looks for a deal, her repeating back to us our own philosophies. I loved spending three days in a car with rambling talks about work and family and experiences. A few last conversations for me to impart whatever wisdom and advice I could before she is out of our immediate orbit. Listening to podcasts and learning new things along the way—random facts that we learned about Natural Bridge, VA and Eleanor Roosevelt’s death, Brahman cattle, gas station food and Hot Springs, AK. And, of course, we shared a lot of laughs—silly in the moment laughter that we’ll both always remember. We are comfortable companions and I look forward to more opportunities for us to travel and learn as a family.
And she’ll be home in less than two weeks for Thanksgiving. And again for Christmas. But this is the beginning of her having her own life—one that does not have proscribed breaks for summer and semester’s ends. She’ll come to stay in her old room, but will likely not live there again. She loves her roots, the place she grew up and, I hope, might one day return to them if life works out that way. In the meantime, we’ll share visits and vacations as much as we can. Again, a new normal.
Robert Frost wrote, “Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.” Of course. But it’s also a place of love and warmth, a place to stretch your wings until you are ready to fly. And a place to return to whenever you need its comfort.
“Fare thee well, may own true love,
Farewell for a while, I’m going away.
But I’ll be back, though I go ten thousand miles.” ~ Mary Chapin Carpenter