Long Night of Waiting and Listening

Inspirational song: Mother (Pink Floyd)

I should have taken the nap that I planned for earlier this afternoon. I'm going to be awake for a long time, watching the phone, and waiting for updates. Yesterday was a series of tribulations for my older daughter, facing as many hurdles in her first solo move as her dad and I typically go through in two or three moves combined, but today, after help from a friend and a workaround suggested by an auto shop, she is on the road. She spent endless frustrating hours yesterday trying to disconnect the drive shaft on her truck so she can tow it, only to fail every attempt. My good friend drove up to meet her this morning, with a torque wrench (of the electric driver variety, if I read the messages right), and even that failed to budge the four bolts that were holding my girl back from her destiny. They concluded that someone had used a metal bonding agent (glue, welding, unbreakable vow that muggles can't see) to seal those bolts in place permanently, and they escalated it to any kind of auto shop open on Labor Day. Even the shop could not break the bond, but at least the mechanic offered a solution to save the day, and he told her to tow it backwards, so that the drive shaft was not engaged. Another solution I wish I had thought of yesterday, along with calling my girlfriend. She finally loaded up her two cats and her little dog, and said goodbye to Boulder late in the afternoon. The last vestiges of childhood have been shaken off, and she no longer lives in the condo we bought for her college years. She's officially out of the nest, never to return.

There have been a lot of instances over the years when her father and I were tired of bashing our heads into the brick wall of her stubbornness, and threw our hands up to let her try her own way, and hopefully learn from her own mistakes. But no matter how frustrated or irritated we might have been, we never got to the "just cut her off" stage, even if it felt good to yell that threat after we'd hung up the phone. It's not in my DNA to stay back completely. It's impossible to turn away and let the world make my kids get hard or broken. I want to shield them, support them. Even now, as she is driving into complete independence, I swore to her that I would be awake as long as she was on the road, and if she needed someone to get her a hotel room, I would make the reservation, and I'll talk to her all night, as needed, so she is alert as she drives. I can't seem to turn off the mothering instinct. I want her to be a whole and capable adult, but I still want her to be my baby too. I look at her face, and I see the four year old version of her, as silly and outrageous and infinitely confident as she was then.

Once she was rolling, I couldn't take the nap I needed to be able to stay awake tonight, knowing she is exactly like her father, and will drive and drive and drive, well past the point when stopping at a hotel is advised. I was agitated all day, and I couldn't focus on a thing. I tried to water outside, and sweep the first layer of leaves off the deck. I moved some things around, I played at cleaning. I tried to be proactive and comb out the undercoat from a couple of the cats, before the loose fur hits the floor and needs to be swept up. I tried to look up more research on gut bacteria. Nothing could hold my attention for more than a few minutes. I really should settle in, because this is going to be a long night of anxiety and crazy maternal fears. And I have to keep them all to myself, and the only sounds I can speak aloud are, "It will all be fine. She will arrive safely, and it's all going to be okay." I wonder whether I'm going to need that pot of coffee I'd planned to make, to stay awake with her. The way I feel right now, probably not.