Fingers Crossed

It's 5:30 A.M. Coffee's on. Caris is in the shower. I'm next. Averie's still between asleep and awake. We're an hour away from leaving for the airport. I'm excited and nervous all wrapped into one anxious ball. I'm sure it's even more intense for Averie. I'm thinking that she probably didn't sleep at all. That's what plane rides are for, I guess.

I have a lot of thoughts running through my head right now. Someone asked yesterday about the most spectacular sunrise you ever witnessed. There were comments about being on some tropic isle, or at the top of a mountain, even a sunrise over New York from a plane. Mine? The first thought that came to mind was the sunrise on Wednesday, September 18, 1985. From my hospital room window somewhere around 6 A.M. It wasn't spectacular. But it was memorable for one reason. I watched it and remembered thinking that it was my first sunrise as a mother. Averie was born just over an hour before and I couldn't help but wonder how this sunset on this day, would be different from every other.

Now it's many sunsets later and as the morning light streams through my window, I'm full of gratitude. Gratitude that I have been here with her through all of these milestones. From birth, through school, through dates, and proms, and graduations, to be here, now,at one of the biggest milestones of her life. Charlie and I were talking while lying in bed last night. How fast did this time go? Weren't we just strapping her into a carseat for the ride home from the hosptial? Now, she's on the threshhold of seeing a lifelong dream possibly come to fruition. The fact that she'll be "this close" to Nirvana; Studio 8H. She's nervous. Her nerves were rattled last night by a crazy LA driver. But once she got down to the business at hand, she was in work mode.

I watched as she stacked the portfolios into neat piles, preparing to pack them into her suitcase. I picked one up and opened it. Very professional. An impressive resume, a prospectus, a script, and a DVD of her web series in every folder. She's ready. As I watched her pack, I wondered..am I ready? It was hard enough watching her carry her furniture and belongings out last year. I had the comfort of knowing that she was only moving 45 miles away. I knew I would see her sporadically. Or when she had no quarters for laundry. Or when she missed her dog. But this is different. What if? What if it goes so well, as we all hope it does, that she ends up getting an offer? Forty-five miles away is one thing. On the other coast of the country is quite another. Oh god. My baby. But then again, this is what we raised her to do. To blossom. To spread her wings and fly. To follow her dreams.

As I looked out my hospital room window on that morning nearly 24 years ago, I never imagined that this day would be here so soon. But here it is. I'm honored that she wants me along on this ride with her. In fact, she's wanted me along on a lot of rides, into a lot of sunsets. I'm so proud. And so grateful. I imagine that one day, someone will ask her about a memorable sunset. I wonder if this day will bring a sunset that she remembers.