Soccer Dad

Leaving the nest

Eight years ago and again three years ago, the end of August, for us, meant anticipating the arrival of a daughter after 9 months. This year the end of August meant dreading the upcoming departure of a daughter for 9 months.

Our oldest just left to spend a year in Israel studying in seminary.

As a parent, we have two contradictory jobs. One is to raise, care for and protect our children. The other is to prepare them to be independent of us. We get so used to the first role that the second is something we resist as it becomes imminent. We don't just care for our children; as they grow older we love them more and more and become quite attached to them.

I can still remember when our oldest was born, rolled across the floor, had so much candy on Purim that she threw up, "built" a snowman a snowy day in March when she was just 1, would rock on horses singing "lolly ... lollly ... lolly;" got her first siddur; asked a great question about the Chumash (bible) she was learning; became Bat Mitzvah; went to camp; baked deserts for Shabbos to indulge my sweet tooth; edited her yearbook; and graduated. All these memories merge together and leave us with the result: a beautiful, refined, intelligent and sensitive young woman. (How I deserve a child like her is a question that's left as an exercise.)

I missed her before she left. And I miss her more now. I get a special thrill every Friday when she asks me for her bracha (blessing.) It's a sign that she's still my daughter.

Still she's gained a measure of independence from us. That's not something that's subject to reversal. She'll always be our daughter, but more than ever she's her own person. It may be with mixed feelings that I acknowledge this, but I couldn't be prouder either.

I see that I am not alone.