Sitting here in the dark; I am flooded with emotions, remembering the first time I held you in my arms. Your porcelain face looked up at me with eyes filled with sparkle and endless openness into the world, your journey started that day. I just made hotel reservations for us and tomorrow morning we travel to Portland as you begin the next road of your journey in life, my little girl has joined the Army National Guard.
The sun has chosen to appear this morning; we load the car with our overnight bags and head to the store. As we drive up the road, I look over to gaze at the fine young lady you have become and yet I still see the porcelain faced child with eyes wide open that I saw the day you were born. You are so full of life; adventure, your individuality makes you the aspiring woman that you are and the amazing role model I know you are going to become.
As we reach the Augusta area it has begun to flurry, the roads are wet. I am glad we have extra windshield fluid in the trunk we are going to need it. Here we go; just in time, let’s pull over and full the tank so that I can see the road the rest of the way to Portland. I am not sure if it’s the coffee or the anticipation of getting to Portland that has my nerves in a bunch or is it the pride and joy and he sense of accomplishment I see in you. A red car has just pulled up beside us; you point out the driver as he is digging for what appears to us, seems to be gold, but we know it’s just a great big Booger, sorry if this is gross but how we laugh. If there is a goal for me in my life, it is that your life always has laughter.
Even though we have now only been here twice, we pull off the interstate into Lewiston to visit with Betu and Raj and grab some lunch, I am starving. As we sit in the restaurant the wonderful aroma of curry, Indian spices has my mind spinning and my stomach growling. I make joke of how you will miss simple food like this as soon as you have to experience military rations. Once again I sit back and watch you interact with our family friends, I am so proud of you it is overwhelming at times.
Off to Portland: we have jumped back on the interstate, you have settled back in the seat to take a nap, what will I do with myself when you’re gone? I am going to make sure I take every moment from this point on and snap shot them in my mind so that I do not forget one smile, one laugh, not even one tear.
Wake up sleepy head, were here exit 46 and I can't believe we made it without GPS. The hotel is decent, I know you are looking forward to staying here and I am still a bit edgy but I am sure it will pass. We check in and I ask you what now of course still with the little girl in you, 'Can we go to the mall?" how some things don't change. I hope they don't in some sense but can't wait for things to change so you may experience life and all it has to offer.
I am on the fifth floor and your room is on the third, how I feel that like the miles down the highway we are also miles apart. You have just called me to let me know you have a roommate and you and she are going to dinner. I sit her now even though the room is well lit; the TV is on HBO, I am alone, is this how it feels? I know that you have to leave; I know that you have to go; I know that I have prepared you for things the best I know how, so fly away, fly away but always remember how to get home.
What a nice piece--you really keep the tone consistent by constantly turning away from the changing travel scene back to the constant mothering scene. That very cleverly allows each graf to end with your voice, in your mind, and, as I say, with that consistency.
ReplyDeleteAnd the travel itself is a fine mix of the highly personal specific small things (boogers, curry, washerfluid) with the various necessary externals (road, mall, motel.)
But, Lisa--the mechanics here turn me from a reader and appreciative critic into a grumpy English teacher itching to pick up a red pencil.
There you go; that works much better.
ReplyDelete