![\"Ally](\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/r9f.352.myftpupload.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/09\/Jenny-and-Lorrie-at-SFO-September-18-2013.jpg\")
<\/a><\/p>\n\u201cThis has been the summer of my dreams,\u201d I say to my daughter Ally.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s pathetic,\u201d she replies.<\/p>\n
Maybe. But it\u2019s true. In the three months Ally\u2019s been home between graduating from college and leaving for a job teaching English in Spain, we\u2019ve been each other\u2019s best companion. Long walks, picking blackberries, lattes, massages, cooking side by side, a mani-pedi to mark the dwindling days of flip-flops and of our time together. We\u2019ve even managed some good conversations until I inevitably mess up with questions like, \u201cWhat if you fall in love and decide to stay in Spain forever?\u201c<\/p>\n
I dreamed of such a summer four years earlier, in the fleeting weeks between high school and college. But back then my dream was Ally\u2019s nightmare. So she stayed out late with friends, sleeping in till the coast was clear from my incessant offers of ensnaring lattes.<\/p>\n
Four years away have allowed Ally to come back not only with a college degree, but with an independent identity that makes our bond less threatening. Free lattes? Bring them on!<\/p>\n
Our first separation was a dress rehearsal. This time\u2019s for real. Ally\u2019s going off to adulthood, not college.<\/p>\n
Songs from Fiddler on the Roof<\/em> keep coursing through my mind:<\/p>\n \u201cIs this the little girl I carried?\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n \u201dMay the Lord protect and defend you.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n Mostly I feel like Tevye on the station platform, seeing Hodel off to Siberia. I know it\u2019s not as dramatic as \u201cGod alone knows when we shall see each other again.\u201d<\/em>\u00a0 For one thing, the shtetl<\/em> lacked Skype. But the pang still runs deep.<\/p>\n The day of Ally\u2019s departure arrives. She navigates the ticket counter, hoping the agent will turn a blind eye to her bag\u2019s extra weight. It\u2019s hard to move abroad for under 50 pounds. The agent waves Ally through, and we sit awhile, steeling ourselves for goodbye. I repeat something I heard on the radio<\/a>, about imagining someone you sorely miss in the next room. \u201cI\u2019m going to think of you in the next room,\u201d I say as we hug. To distract ourselves, we search out one last latte. It helps wash away the lump in my throat.<\/p>\n Last free latte–at least for awhile!<\/p><\/div>\n I watch as Ally goes through security. It\u2019s hard to see through the plate glass that separates us. Between the throng of travelers and the reflections of people waving goodbye, I soon lose track of her. Suddenly I feel the same panic that overwhelmed me when Ally was three, and we lost her in a museum. As my husband and I frantically searched the nearby exhibits, I glanced from the balcony into the lobby. There was Ally, calmly talking to a guard, unaware that she was lost.<\/p>\n She\u2019ll be fine now, too.<\/p>\n I hope I can say the same for myself.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" \u201cThis has been the summer of my dreams,\u201d I say to my daughter Ally. \u201cThat\u2019s pathetic,\u201d she replies. Maybe. But it\u2019s true. In the three months Ally\u2019s been home between graduating from college and leaving for a job teaching English … Continue reading <\/a>