Well, the deed is done.
She got up at 5:30 (my wife murmurs, wistfully, couldn't she do this ALL the time?), took a shower, got dressed, put on makeup and jewelry. Came out to breakfast, asked my wife can you get makeup out of a shirt? The one I want to wear's got this STAIN.... while I sat there thinking even I know that you put makeup on after you're dressed, not before. But my wife found a stain remover, dabbed furiously at it, and now the daughter's wearing it. She looks good. Apprehensive, but good. I made sure to tell her that with all of the grief, I mean, guidance that we've been giving her, she ought to remember that we love her and believe in her. As we do. She shrugged it off, but I feel better for having said it. She even allowed her mother's obligatory pre-departure photograph. I know we can't come down to the bus stop, but can we at least take one picture? Sigh. One, then I've gotta go.
And so it begins.
2 comments:
I always told my son that I would not yell or argue with him if I didn't love him deeply. If I didn't care I would just let him live his life.
If I said that, she'd likely say I should simply love her less, then.
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