Yesterday I left my daughter behind, to begin her second year at The New School in NYC. We spent a few days in the city first, which was completely the wrong way to do it, as my sense of dread grew exponentially and I had nothing to look forward to except a long endless slog through Connecticut (what is it about Connecticut? Why is highway traffic at a standstill, inflating a two-hour drive to five or six? Why must Connecticut be located squarely between Massachusetts and NYC????) by myself, weep weep.
I dearly hope that this year will be better for my girl. There are some good omens:
- After being told that she is now ineligible for financial aid (because she didn't pass enough classes, though her GPA is fine), she received a big scholarship (this makes no sense to me, but I am letting it be); we are only paying slightly more this year than we paid last year, which is HUGE.
- As she did last year, she brought cookies from our local bakery to share with her roommates. Last year's roommates were two beeyatches who barely spoke to her; Mimosa ate all the cookies herself. This year, her room- and suite-mates are healthy Chinese girls who didn't want the cookies, but Mimosa brought them to the hall meeting, where they were a huge hit! She felt popular and appreciated. (And she says her new roommate, Blair, has been very nice to her so far. Yay! Fingers crossed, hard. After two beeyatches and a human pig, she is way overdue for a nice living situation.)
- She has lined up several appointments with potential therapists, and I got to meet the first one, who is stunning — like, Michelle Obama and Lupita Nyongo's prettier sister. Mimosa liked her fine but wants to meet several before she makes a decision; I heard her on the phone setting up one appointment, and she sounded so poised and mature. Very cool!
|Kerrey Hall, her new digs — imagine parking in front of that during dropoff . . . !|
|The layout of her bedroom (she's on the left); the suite also has a kitchen and bathroom|
But as sad as I am and as much as I miss my girl, I think I am really lucky — to have someone I love so much and who leaves such a hole in my life when she's not here.
As I left Rein's Deli (in Vernon, Connecticut) — my reward for making it through the first four and half hours a four-hour trip in total — the sun hit my back window in such a way that I could see every streak she left when she cleaned my windshield on the way down (it was her first time with this particular chore — life lessons!), and my crooner boyfriend Andy Williams began to sing "The Impossible Dream" (source of this post's title), and I burst into noisy gasping sobs, to the point where the FedEx drivers next to me looked over with some concern.
But it's all good. I may hate the circle of life right now, but I really do know that to everything there is a season.
And apparently my body knows it too, because after more than a year of no periods, I began spotting in earnest during this week of delivering a child out into the world, once again. Crazytown.
All will be well, and all will be well, and all manner of things will be well.
Today I will clean my house and make sweet-and-sour mix for my Lemonade cocktail and buy cat food and hug my remaining child 1,028 times. And not cry.
Or maybe just a little, I'm not made of stone, for God's sake.
p.s. This was my last Big Event of the summer! Mom turned 75 and is all moved in to her new place, three birthdays have been celebrated, House Guest came and went (a delightful visit!), and now Mimosa is dispatched. I plan to spend the next week exhaling . . . !!