I have to stop thinking of my youngest daughter as my youngest daughter. She’s 18, and I should be allowing her to venture out more on her own, without wanting to know where she’s goin, how long she’ll be there, and when she’ll be home each and every time she walks out the door.
It’s probably good to know where she’s at, but once she leaves for college in the fall how will I know where she’s at then? I know she’ll be attending Slippery Rock University, and I know that’s in Slippery Rock, PA. But how am I to know where she’ll be when she’s not in class, or even if she’s going to class?
How am I supposed to train myself not to text her every hour to see if she’ll reply and let me know where she’s at and what she’s doing?
I think about her leaving for college and I begin to wish that I could rewind our lives and go back to the time when she was so shy that she’d hide behind my leg when a friend or relative spoke to her. Back to when she used that gibberish toddler language that nobody but her older brother, mother or father could understand. Back in time to the days when I held her and rocked her to sleep, or comforted her after a mishap or when she had a tummy ache. Back when she was my little bo bo, when she’d say her name was nuh nuh nuh, making everyone wonder how she came up with three syllables and that unique pronunciation of her first name.
I have to stop thinking that Meghan needs protected from everything that’s out there. But there sure is a lot of harmful stuff out there. Isn’t there? Or is it just a father’s imagination that the world is just too big for his little baby girl?