...the way it felt to hand her the keys, and the way I slowly learned to unclench myself and just let her drive. How she was so proud of herself for parking perfectly the first two times; how I learned later that was a total fluke and she really needs practice. The time she backed out of a parking spot at the seminary, and I told her to shift back to drive and go forward, and she did it without turning the wheel… driving herself right back IN to the parking spot.
The way she switched lanes like a boss because she’s “from da hood!” and we couldn’t stop laughing. The way she was proud of herself for letting go of the steering wheel for just a second to turn on the radio.
The way she drew confidence from other recent personal victorires: “I got this mom, I beat the Parkers in debate!”
Her siblings were desperately jealous, especially seth, barely restraining his green monster every time I handed her the keys. Their jealousy made the freedom taste even better to her; and it reminded me of the time she and Aggie learned the climb the tree in Indiana, but none of the boys could, and they would sit up high and just enjoy being out of reach while the boys fought down below.
That time I realized she does NOT need seven people telling her to stop at a stop sign, asking her the speed limit, making sure she uses her turn signal, and all voices but Mom’s were forbidden.
The way she obeys the speed limit, and everyone around her seems annoyed by that! Her sweet CC tutor drove by her in a huff one day, only realizing later that it was Lorraine, and apologizing profusely later! The way driving on the expressway is like resisting peer pressure … and yet, the pull to keep up with the general flow is nearly irresistible.
I don’t want to forget the way it felt when I realized she’s doing fine, and I could send a text while she drove me, and suddenly I was getting work done in transit like a homeschool mom ninja.
That time Seth told her to go and she went; angry honking followed bad advice. And she got mad and frazzled (just like I do), but she kept driving, and it was a victory over emotions, when she chose focus over feelings.
The way she freaked out when she asked me “left or right?” and I said, “You tell me. I won’t always be here to give you directions.” The way we both know our conversation is a metaphor for life, and we try to get ready to embrace that next stage, even though it’s terrifying.
God, grow us up together!
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