Happy Birthday, Baby

First let me say this.

Please drink responsibly.

Do not drink and drive.

Always use a designated driver.

Sunday, January 15, our college girl turns 21. She has been counting the days to her first legal drink, and came home to share the event with her dowdy old parents.

I can’t help but think of other milestones.

When she didn’t look like a newborn anymore.

Kindergarten.

The Christmas Pageant when the music teacher had the kindergartners sing Silent Night. Sounded like mice in a tin can.

Learning to ride a 2-wheel bicycle.

For a parent facing a lifetime of letting go, nothing compares to the moment you first let go of the back of that bike.

Middle School.
Those eighth-graders looked so big and ominous.

Sex Education.
Kill me now.

High School
Kill me now, the sequel.

The First Prom
Waiting up. Wondering.

The Rest of the Proms
It never got any better.

The Car Wreck
Only the Ford succumbed.

High School Graduation and the All-Night Senior Party
More waiting but thinking this time, we won’t have to do this anymore.
Hahahahahahaha

College
Everybody kept telling me, Baby says goodbye, Mama’s going to cry.

Oh please.

So, we haul all her stuff into the dorm and the day is hotter than fresh poop and there’s no air conditioning in her room because, after all, this is Montana and by the time everything is unpacked, straightened up and plugged in, some of us are over-temped and cranky.

Ready to go home, in other words.

We troop downstairs one more time to bid each other goodbye at the car. New lives starting all around. I’m so not in the mood to cry, I’m actually thinking, ha, showed them.

And then, she hugs her Dad. I watch his face flush over her shoulder and he holds on to her like he remembers when she didn’t look like a newborn anymore.

I cried for 30 miles.

Please drink responsibly.