“Mom, I have to interview you for Senior English,” Kelly said.
“Okay, I can do it tomorrow–”
“No, Mom, now.”
I looked up from my computer. I’d been trying to meet another impossible deadline.
“It’s due tomorrow,” Kelly said.
“Of course it is.” I closed my computer. “Kelly, you know–”
“Please, Ma, lets just do it.” She flung herself in the chair opposite me and pulled out a rumpled piece of paper. I resisted the urge to ask how long she’d had this assignment. Judging from the paper it had been a while.
“Okay,” Kelly said. “What is the one piece of advice you’d give me as I head out as an adult into the world?”
Oh, god, I forgot. Time. Passing. Too. Quickly. Here I was with another daughter who in a matter of months would be graduating from high school.
“Honey, do we have to talk about this now?” I pretended to wipe a tear away. “You know I’m not good at this letting go stuff.”
“Come on,” Kelly said.
“Okay. Okay,” I said. “Give me a minute.”
Kelly tapped her pen on the table. Tap. Tap. Tap.
“Times up,” she said. “Give it to me.” Her pen was poised.
This had to be good. This single piece of advice had to carry her through her transition from childhood to adulthood. This single piece of advice had to make up for all the lessons I hadn’t taught Kelly over her almost eighteen years with me. And I’m sure at this juncture there were a ton of these missed opportunities.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
“MOM.”
“When life gives you lemons, turn them into lemonade.”
Kelly rolled her eyes. “Really, that’s the best you can do? The lemons-lemonade quote.” She started to write it down.
“Wait. That’s not it.” I started to sweat.
“If you love something, set it free.”
“Oh, God, Mom. Really?”
I rubbed my sweaty palms on my jeans. Think. Think.
I sang, “Kiss today goodbye. And point me–”
“I am not writing that down. What does that even mean?”
“It’s lyrics from ‘Chorus Line.’”
“I don’t even know–”
“It was a very popular musical when I was in high school.”
“This is 2009. Not 1809.”
“Funny,” I said. “Very funny.”
“Never mind. I’ll just make something up.” Kelly gathered her binder and papers together.
“Wait. Okay. I’m ready.” And this is the story I told her.
During my first visit with Molly at Sac State, I’d begun unbraiding myself from the past and future and started to appreciate the present. What choice did I have? Oh, sure, I could waste more time kicking my ass with my guilt over the mistakes I’d made and how I’d parented throughout Molly and Kelly’s childhoods. I could remain on the ledge of the future. On that visit, in the moment, I began to see a life where I let go of my chronic bombardment of what ifs…What if Molly goes to college and she gets into drugs, moves to San Francisco and begs for money on the street? What if Kelly never likes school? Then what? What if Jack continues his obsession with guns and wars? What if…I’d started to live in the present. What if I appreciated that today Molly was safe and happy in Sacramento, and I was more than okay with David, Kelly and Jack in San Diego. What if I was content.
I looked at Kelly across the table from me. Her eyes seemed glazed over.
“So you get it?” I asked.
“Uh?”
“The moral of the story?” I asked. “The one piece of advice I’d give you? You get it, right?”
I stared into her dark brown eyes.
“Yeah. Yeah. Carpe Diem.”
“Yes,” I said. “Seize the day.”
“Why didn’t you just say so?”
What piece of advice have you given your child as she left for college? Or if you don’t have children or they’re not that old, what would you tell your imaginary graduating senior? What was the best piece of advice you were given upon graduating high school? To leave comments, click on to “Read Users’ Comments.”
