Oh, wait. Those celebratory exclamations don’t seem quite right, do they?
Perhaps a bit more explanation is in order.
It’s not that we wouldn’t love to have her home this summer or that we have secret plans to turn her bedroom into a sauna room.
In fact, when she went off to college this past fall, my husband and I often said to each other — “It’s OK, sweetie. Before you know it, summer will be here and she’ll be home for the summer.”
Kids ALWAYS come home the summer after their freshman year.
It’s the summer after their sophomore year that they start doing things like taking jobs and renting apartments in their college town.
And it’s not that she wouldn’t enjoy being home for the summer (perhaps especially if we converted her closet into, say, a sauna.)
In fact, she enjoys weekends home and our visits with her at her college.
But she has a fantastic opportunity awaiting her this summer.
She’ll be an assistant to a research team from her college.
The team is going to the Canadian Rockies to do research on the migratory paths of butterflies, to assess if there are changes in those paths, and if so, what those changes might/might not say about climate change.
Our daughter leaves with the team about a week after finals, and will return about a week before her sophomore year starts.
Now, I have to admit my first reaction wasn’t purely Yippeee! Woo hoo! Hurrah!
It was partly that, but also a lot of “Whhhaattt?”
Then I went to Google maps, plugged in our address, plugged in where she’ll be staying, saw how far away and remote the location is and my Whhhaattt?” turned to “Wahhh!”
But just for a little bit. Then I started thinking about this child and butterflies.
When she was 5 or so, we signed her up to play tee-ball. She was very focused at the tee, whacking that ball right off the top with all her might.
But in the outfield, she was quickly distracted. Inspecting the ants in the grass or chasing butterflies in the sunshine.
I recalled when a particular Monarch butterfly took her off the field (hollers from parents and coaches eventually got her back on), we looked at each other and said, “Hmmm.” Don’t think softball is going to be for her.”
But then we said, “Hmmm.” Every kid has to follow her or his own path. She might not grow up to love playing softball, but she’ll grow up to be passionate about lots of things.
Won’t it be fun to see what those things turn out to be?”
And upon remembering that, it struck me that this is exactly what we’ve reared her and her little sister to do: chase butterflies.
Butterflies that are dreams and aspirations and adventures... in the sunshine but also when necessary in the rain... and, yes, off the home field and onto fields afar.
Chase those butterflies, daughter of mine!
When you alight home, we’ll be here to listen to tales of your adventures. (And I promise, we won’t turn ALL of your closet into a sauna.)
Sharon Short’s column runs Monday in Life. Send email to sharonshort@sharonshort.com.
About the Author