My daughter graduated from high school Friday night, Our household has been a whirlwind of parties, open houses, overnight guests (I think half a dozen kids landed on our doorstep at 2 a.m. last night, but I'm afraid to open the den door to check), family, in-laws and outlaws, friends and well-wishers.
So today officially marks Robin's first week as a technical adult. Since she's decided to postpone college for a year, it feels especially poignant.
It was hard to disentangle OUR expectations from HER goals, to accept that HER milestones and achievements are not the kind that get awards and recognition from our school system. She's an amazing kid, but you might not know that from reading her yearbook or attending her graduation ceremony.
And she has her own path to follow that will not be just like the path her father and I have chosen for ourselves. In fact, let's hope not--it took Jon a decade or two to find his niche, and many more than that for me. As I stand and watch other people's children start confident steps toward concrete career paths, I have to accept that it might take Robin years to find hers. Did I know what I wanted from life at 18? No, not a clue. Even now, I'm still not sure. Why would I expect her to?
I've written many times how having a child enabled me to embrace my art. How being an advocate for my child helped me become an advocate for myself. How hoping my child would follow her heart gave me the courage to follow mine.
Now my art informs me about my child.
As I have learned to let my art be what it is, with no judgment and no expectations (as best I can, anyway), to simply give it my whole heart and best efforts, now I must do the same with my daughter.
From now on, her choices are her own. I have to let her choose HER own path, and simply give her my whole heart and best effort to support HER decisions.
Letting go....It never gets easier, but at least it becomes familiar.
And maybe that's the zen of this moment.
