Cliche to say it’s not what any one of us expected the past few months to look like, who could’ve guessed schools would close followed by nearly everything else, and that there would be no definitive end in the foreseeable future. As likely as we were to make predictions, no one has a glass ball and very few among us are seers.
I have felt most tender toward the students in all of this, particularly graduating seniors who, in so many instances, were left to grieve events and milestones that traditionally helped with the transition from and closure of high school. I have felt the want for my own kids, desiring to attend school more than they ever were aware, but especially my daughter whose freshman year of college came to an abrupt and unceremonial end.
She stayed on campus for awhile just to ride out what would surely be a temporary hiccup in her young adult plans. But as the students began to clear out, as more and more amenities became unavailable, as classrooms and campus facilities emptied out, she felt increasingly isolated and alone. She asked if she could come home for awhile. Of course! But she was set on returning to her new summer apartment to be with other young students in a vibrant setting rather than hang out with her family in Montana indefinitely. We weren’t offended in the least, we know about her wiggles and what it takes for her to thrive. But how we loved having her with us for those three weeks.
We took a family road trip from Montana to Illinois to see our oldest son get married. Some of the best memories of the summer were staying at hotels, eating out, late nights with the kids playing games and eating ice cream. Day trips to Chicago and Lake Geneva were eye-opening highlights, soothing our anxious and somewhat emotional souls. We rented a charming house by the water, a picturesque and renewing cocoon as we officially transitioned to our supportive roles as parents. All seven of us (plus my two sisters) spent those memorable days together, and they will forever be etched in my mind. As anyone who’s had children leave the nuclear family structure—the nest—can attest, there is nothing like having everyone together again.
But life is more than a vacation home, and so we returned to our various posts, she and her brother to their college life. Until she decided there was no point in staying in her new apartment. She was alone most of the time in an unfamiliar environment without means to make new acquaintances. We talked all the time, but still feeling unsettled, she surprised us by coming back one day.
The details of her travels are less important than what’s transpired in our home. Although she’s been in and out all summer, making her way through Washington and Utah, she’s begun preparing for her pending church mission for the past several weeks, requiring someone (mostly me) to be with her as much as possible as a “companion.” And this has been a delightful time for our family.
You know what most kids are like in high school, especially once they can drive, and especially toward the end. A tender mercy God grants parents is the gradual way our children begin to detach from the family, compassionately allowing us to become familiar with their absence. When she was in school we were competing with friends, activities, homework, job, and volunteer work, which means we rarely saw her except on Sundays. Without these diversions, we have her much more.
Now she’s home nearly all the time. She’ll occasionally go to the stores with one of the kids, but mostly she’s just here. And it has been the most exquisite blessing in the world for us, to have so much uninterrupted, undistracted time with one of our children. I cherish casual conversation, the slow minutes of just wrapping her in my arms, the long, long talks and cries about what she’s doing, what she’s missing out on, how she’s feeling, what she’s painting. I love having her with me as we run errands and shop for groceries; and it warms my heart to hear the sewing machine, or to see her at the easel in the backyard, or to just stop and watch her curled up with the dogs on the couch for a mid-day nap. We love hearing her laugh with her district, her new far-away but close friends, and we’re especially thrilled with her companion who has to have been heaven-sent; I honestly don’t know if there could’ve been a more perfect friend for Avery at this junction of her life and I’m beyond grateful. I love the quiet days together, her on the computer wrapped up in blankets on the couch or at the kitchen table, me making her cookies or puttering in the kitchen or folding laundry nearby. It feels cozy, homey, comfortable, peaceful, perfect.
Our weekends are different these days as well. Whereas before she’d have work and plans with friends till late at night, now we spend so much time together as a family hiking, eating out, going for ice cream, checking out thrift stores and garage sales, playing games, listening to music, going on walks, watching documentaries, lounging about just talking, and making fun treats. She is our glue, our anchor, and it’s been such a blessing to have this time with our teenagers and her. We love watching them dancing and laughing together and listening to the three of them up late talking or making a whole new dinner or starting a Disney movie as we’re heading to bed. We love it so much that our kids are best friends and that they love being together. These few months have drawn them even closer, and there is a palpable love and joy in our home because of these tight bonds. The only times that are better are when our other kids come home. There really is nothing better in the universe than having our whole family together, it really is heaven on earth.
Just as our weekend visits with college kids are always too short, our days with Avery are fading quickly. We all realize the inevitable, that it’s time for her to move to the next phase of her mission and life. We’re all getting a bit antsy, so thankful for this unexpected luxury of togetherness, but recognizing it as a temporary pause from what we all need to be doing. She will serve her mission and return to college and work and friends, just as our others will continue to become increasingly independent and spend less and less time with us and the family. It’s what we want, for sure. We want our children to feel free to leave, to move on, to be their own people and to create lives of their own, of course.
But we also want to soak up the moments like these. Because we know how fleeting they are. I’ve sat on her bed, I’ve cuddled with her under the covers, I’ve listened and I’ve held her. In my mind I know we can always recreate scenarios like these, but it just might never really be the same. We love having her all to ourselves. I love that she’s been able to be present, here with us entirely, not distracted and running about. I love hearing her thoughts and opinions and plans, so different now that we aren’t “parenting” as much as just appreciating the person she has grown into and is still becoming. I love the heart to heart nearness we’ve had, the sweet everyday memories of doing nothing and everything together. I’ll miss this all so much, as we all do when someone close to us, someone we have loved so intensely, leaves us. But I choose to be grateful for this unexpected detour in our lives, for this uncommon but blessed experience of having our daughter with us for just a little longer than planned. It has truly been a gift from God that we will cherish forever.
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