olderdadyoungerchild

“I just want to stop by for a minute and pet the cats, and pick up something.” It was the first Monday following Daughter’s move, setting up house in a beachside condo with her boyfriend. She was coming off a 10.5 hour shift at the sandwich shop, but she was in a bright mood.

The fact that Daughter has moved out is not a surprise. She’s been talking about it since she turned 16. Are her parents so oppressive she must flee at the first opportunity? Not the case, she made clear. Instead, it’s that urge — that need — to stand out and up on your own, proving to your self and the world you have achieved independence. I could identify with that, based on my own teen years.

Gotta tell you, I really wasn’t expecting an empty nest quite so soon. Seems like yesterday I was looking at that same nest and she was just a tiny egg, nestled in. Of course I questioned her decisions — the rent is high for two people in their position. Why not stay here for a while longer, save more money? Seriously, Daughter is an only child and always has lived up to that status. She is controlling, of course, but only to positive ends. Hesitate to use the word “spoiled,” because I don’t think her personality ever merited that label. But for 18 years she’s been showered with gifts and opportunities that other girls envy.

Yet, she was also our little girl in times of stress or crisis. She is sensitive, has a thin skin in spots and weeps easily. There are times when I’ve reassured myself she wasn’t ready to stand on her own. One day, my phone rang. It was Daughter, But she was at home.

“Daaad,” she offered sweetly. “Can you do me a favor?” It’s not often she asks for help, so I quickly agreed.

“Where are you?” I asked.

“I’m in my bathroom.”

“What’s the favor?”

“I’m out of toilet paper. Can you please bring me some?”

This one incident always stands out in my mind, for its comic appeal and for how I felt it summed up my relationship with Daughter.

I went to the linen closet and pulled out two rolls of toilet tissue. Walked back to her end of the house and left the two rolls stacked, right outside the bathroom door. With that in mind, I stopped by several times over the next few months to assess and drop off a couple of rolls if necessary. (Also couldn’t help but thinking: You didn’t you check the supplies before you got busy?)

I admire how hard as she has worked to establish her independence. We’ve made it clear she always has a home here, should the condo not work out. We don’t want to see her hurt, or to damage her credit. She did NOT ask us for money when they signed the paperwork and paid two months’ rent. She could have asked. And as much as I may not favor the move, I certainly would stand up for her rights and abilities.

Will it work out? I don’t know. I don’t want Daughter to be crushed if the wheels come off.

It was great to hear her voice as she came by the house tonight. We chatted for a couple of minutes, maybe dinner on Wednesday. She lovingly re-connected with the cats. She was getting ready to leave, standing by the door. “Just picking up something?” I asked.

She turned, and had two rolls of toilet paper tucked into her arm.

“We ran out last night.”