There She Goes

There are three words I string together with alarming regularity these days: "Where's my daughter?"This day started early and emotionally as we dropped her at the airport for a month-long trip to the Rockies. At 17, she's now a veteran of these western sojourns. Two years ago, she flew to Los Angeles alone for a three-week stay at UCLA. Her mother cried for hours. Somehow, she didn't seem to miss home that much. Last summer, she spent some time in the mountains exploring her belief system but was home more than she was away.This time, she's going to work at a summer camp in the mountains, and that surely should be a worthwhile experience.
I have to admit there was a lump in my throat as she walked through the security gates at the airport. I told my wife this might be a dress rehearsal for next year when she will have graduated from high school and presumably will be leaving for a distant university. This will be a month after I hit 50, so start preparing the IV valium right now.
She will be home for four days next month, then will turn around and head west again for hiking and camping in a different set of mountains. Then, she will be home for a couple of weeks before a trip to foreign soil in planned. It's shaping up to be a busy (and expensive) summer. She's growing as a person. There's more to education than books.
I don't know how the boyfriend feels about all this traveling, but I certainly know my wife and I have mixed feelings about it. Maybe all this absence is preparing us for what comes next.
Where's my daughter? I don't know. Over the next year and a half, we might find the answer to that question.

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