Eighteen years ago, I was driving on the 101, looking at the cars to my left and right, seeing through bleary eyes, sleep deprived as a first-time mom, having a fleeting curiosity about how I and so many others in the same situation were actually allowed to be operating heavy machinery.
Dotting some of the lines to the present, I think back to holding hands with our daughter as we crossed the street, and then watching her do it on her own, looking, listening, and then crossing. Then tricycling, bicycling, and now driving. In a blurry, imperfect snap of the fingers, here we are, 18 years later, after she has just graduated from high school, our family on the brink of a new chapter.
I hear that we’ll get through this. We may even look back at this time with longing. I can believe it. But, when you’re in the thick of it like me, I look to my left and my right, wondering if all the big feelings are happening in other families like ours. I trust that they are.
