(no subject)
I guess it was real after all.
The tears in my mom’s eyes over dinner were the final push out the door, the disbelief is no longer swimming in my gut; I am going to college in less than a year.
“I feel so old. I can’t believe my last one is going to be out of high school so soon,” she says, and suddenly my defense is gone. Nothing I could say can make up for time. We’re not getting any younger.
“I know, it’s crazy,” I say. I retreat back into taking subtle sips of my watered down Dr. Pepper under the dim house lights. I can’t think of anything to say to make this easier for you.
“I know we don’t see each other very much anymore… I hope you still come around,” she laughs, pretending so badly to play this off like it was nothing, like she was really kidding when she said that. I feel awful and regret being the youngest. Basically I’m the last reminder that she can’t hold on forever to that image of her three little kids in the backseat of the car on the way home from Church, or sitting attentively at the cousin’s birthday party in the play place at Burger King. And I know it’s out of my control, but it kills me to know that this time, I really can’t do a thing for her but try and make her proud of what she led me on to.
A certain percent of the mail is always mine these days. That never happens; I never receive mail. All these colleges, hoping I’ll invest the time to apply to their schools. Literally 200 page books, telling me why Georgia is the place to be for fall semester, or pamphlets that try to appeal to the side of me that lives for theatre. Even NAU looks beautiful. I’m basing the real world off of photographs of places I can’t truthfully see myself living on my own, but maybe that’s exactly what I need. Maybe I need to make that initial rash move before I’m truly self-sufficient. Out of state college sounds so appealing, even studying abroad. Thoughts of Chicago, thoughts of Europe. It’s all happening so soon.
The tears in my mom’s eyes over dinner were the final push out the door, the disbelief is no longer swimming in my gut; I am going to college in less than a year.
“I feel so old. I can’t believe my last one is going to be out of high school so soon,” she says, and suddenly my defense is gone. Nothing I could say can make up for time. We’re not getting any younger.
“I know, it’s crazy,” I say. I retreat back into taking subtle sips of my watered down Dr. Pepper under the dim house lights. I can’t think of anything to say to make this easier for you.
“I know we don’t see each other very much anymore… I hope you still come around,” she laughs, pretending so badly to play this off like it was nothing, like she was really kidding when she said that. I feel awful and regret being the youngest. Basically I’m the last reminder that she can’t hold on forever to that image of her three little kids in the backseat of the car on the way home from Church, or sitting attentively at the cousin’s birthday party in the play place at Burger King. And I know it’s out of my control, but it kills me to know that this time, I really can’t do a thing for her but try and make her proud of what she led me on to.
A certain percent of the mail is always mine these days. That never happens; I never receive mail. All these colleges, hoping I’ll invest the time to apply to their schools. Literally 200 page books, telling me why Georgia is the place to be for fall semester, or pamphlets that try to appeal to the side of me that lives for theatre. Even NAU looks beautiful. I’m basing the real world off of photographs of places I can’t truthfully see myself living on my own, but maybe that’s exactly what I need. Maybe I need to make that initial rash move before I’m truly self-sufficient. Out of state college sounds so appealing, even studying abroad. Thoughts of Chicago, thoughts of Europe. It’s all happening so soon.