As parents, do we ever really let go? I don’t know. I suppose there will be a time when I look across the world at my girls all grown up and know that they are OK, but of course I’ll still love them and pray for them and hop on that plane or car or train or whatever it takes to get to them on a moments notice if they need me.
Tiara is oft reminding me that “in a year” she could be on her own. It would be a crazy mix of emotions anyway – proud of the woman that she’s becoming and sad to see her drive away, but now, POTS has added a level of fear and worry that I didn’t have before. She’s still smart and confident, but there’s a new vulnerability that terrifies me.
The sad reality of her world now is that it’s very small. She was sick when we moved here just over a year ago, so she barely attended school last year finally giving in and switching to home teachers in January. This year, she managed to attend one day. That isn’t enough to develop a social life.
Her friends are spread out all over the world, but not here. Which leaves my beautiful 17 year old senior a bit housebound and not the social butterfly that she once was (and should be).
But today was different. A friend from Africa was in town today. A friend in Virginia drove into DC. The three of them met up at a cafe to talk.
I was allowed to walk with her into the Sculpture garden, but from there, she veered right towards the cafe. She had her walker. I had a lump in my throat. I stood at a distance and watched her wait and then saw her walk in. I knew one friend was already there. She’d be fine. But her text that she’d arrived made me relax enough to enjoy a couple hours on my own.
Phil walked her back to me. It’s a little thing, but after all this, it was such a beautiful sight to see my girl walking down the street with another teenager. It may sound silly, but it’s been a while. POTS sort of puts you in a strange bubble. But POTS after a move creates a vacuum of silence and solitude that isn’t very fun.
Snapshots of normal. It’s a good thing.