The Long Drive Home

I left her there. Laurie. Confederation College. All the way up in Thunder Bay. On her own.

I didn't cry until after, until I'd walked around the corner; felt my stomach tighten, squeezing the promise I'd made to be "cool". She looked brave, hesitant but brave. Wanting this decision she'd made about school to be the right one, feeling slightly a faded version of herself without Lloyd, the sweetest and kindest boy on earth, and without Lana, the kind of friend who loves us through everything.

We did the tour - where's the cafeteria, the most important detail. We listened to the fellow with the blowhorn assure the moms, both smalltown and otherwise, that their children were in good hands, my life's work could be entrusted with their skill and experience.

But do they know she doesn't like to ask questions, doesn't like to raise her hand and draw attention to herself? Do they know she doubts herself some times, doesn't believe in all the possibilities that are Laurie, doesn't realize she is special and gifted and unique? Do they know she likes a fan blowing in her face when she sleeps, that her MAC computer doesn't seem to want to communicate with the college's schedule? Do they know she forgot her toothbrush in the car, that she is still recovering from mono, that she can be a fussy eater, that she's quiet when she worries?

Of course, they know all these things.

But they don't know how much I'll miss her. They won't hear my voice cheering from 18 hours away for her success. They don't know I have unbelievable faith in her.

Or maybe they do.

It was a long drive home. A quiet one. A time of remembering. But also a time of imagining and feeling unbelievable excitement for Laurie. After all, it's her turn.