So I began looking through my old writings, and I came across this piece I thought I had lost, from the fall of 2013, when my youngest daughter was beginning her last year of college. I remember feeling ambivalence yet excitement.
And as I read it now, the words tumble back and my feelings exude that sweet pain that yet tingles vibrantly, not letting go, because it is still very much present.
Will we ever let these emotions go? Will we ever stop worrying, stop musing over our children, our loved ones, our students, our peers?
Aren't we supposed to keep on going in our struggle, daily?
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| Beginning our eastbound journey, wet soaking rain piercing the days © Ana M. Fores Tamayo |
I am getting ready to leave for two weeks on the second half of my road trip: I went to California before, and now to the northeast—this has been my cross-country summer. We are moving our youngest daughter to a house this year, her senior year in college, and though on a personal level I am happy and sad and ecstatic and also feeling a wee bit old, I am waxing philosophical.
Why?
As faculty, we want the best for our students. We do the most we can; we give them those critical thinking skills they need to think about the future, to forge ahead and make waves into tomorrow, to look at the big picture, to conquer it all.
As a parent, though, I quiver.
