Opening doors

The weekend began with the first college visits of my youngest child. Friday morning at the University of Chicago followed by the afternoon at the University of Wisconsin. At Chicago we listened to a description of a haven for scholars and the value of knowledge, as though it were almost tangible or something one could taste. At Wisconsin we listened to a weary administrator tell us that majors and subjects don't matter, but that college is really about being, and growing and other squishy stuff. Unfornate that such a fine institution presents itself so poorly. To my daughter's credit the morning presentation resonated with her and the afternoon did not. Much too early to tell where all this will end but it was clearly the start of something big. 

Her siblings went through this same process to varying degrees. Paths for all three have gone through Chicago surprisingly, either on a visit or final selection. Both her sister and brother ended up going to a school they did not initially consider. Both started out on a detour from the college dreams of junior high. Both overcame big obstacles that are part of college and both made us so proud. She will also, I am sure.

It was time for this trip. Time for her to ponder this big project in a big city where it may happen. And think more about life away from home. About the person she is, the person she is becoming, the person she wants to be. About how these places can make you all you want to be or rip apart all you hold dear and push you in places you should not go. This is the time in life when the need to be on your own is both fearsome and thrilling, when life at home is both maddening and comforting. Walking across the seesaw.

She spent the day thinking ahead. I spent the day contrasting her wishes with that of our other children and the mission ahead of her. I thought of the long drives to Washington and Lee and the beauty of Lexington, Virginia. Giving my oldest daughter a hug goodbye under a huge oak tree as we both held back a few tears  (hers of joy).  Loading the UHaul for a drive to DePaul and navigating the alleyways of Chicago with my son. Giving him a sendoff as guys do, with a handshake and a firm look in the eye. I told him I was proud of him. He replied "wait until I accomplish something, then be proud of me". Four years later I was, for both of them, and have been many times over.

The day came to a close with a return to the Twin Cities on a rainy Friday night. She spent the day dreaming and planning. I spent it opening doors, which is one of the very best things parents do.