Just a few days ago, we brought our baby daughter home from the hospital. It couldn't have been more than a couple of weeks ago.
I looked up, and she's turned eighteen.
She left for Texas A&M University's orientation/indoctrination/brainwashing "fish camp" around 5:30 this morning.
Reverend Charles Johnson, the interim minister at Broadway Baptist Church, recently told us that grief is another way of saying "something ended too soon". I didn't fully agree with that statement until now.
I think we've done a good job with her. She's polite to her elders, loves animals, has a great sense of humor, knows what she's doing on a guitar, and if you ask her about politics, she consistently says she's a libertarian. People like being around her.
When I went away to college, all of my friends from my hometown drove back home at the first weekend opportunity. They were visibly homesick. Not me.
At that time, I'd had enough of Mississippi rice fields, tractors, and the flat landscape between Drew and Merigold Mississippi. When all of my friends were leaving school to go back home, I gave a friend of mine two bags of dirty laundry and a flat tire to drop off at our farm, and asked him to pick it up on the return trip.
I recognized the same look in my baby girl's eyes this morning. She was ready to be gone. Ready to fly.