On the day that my daughter got her driver’s license at age 16, she asked me if she could take the car out for a spin on her own.
“Of course,” I said, as we sat parked in front of our house. “I’m really proud of you for getting your license on the first try.”
It was strange to be in the passenger seat for the first time with my daughter driving. I reached across and patted her hand, which was ready and waiting on the steering wheel. Then I just sat there.
“Mom,” she said, “you realize if you are fine with me driving the car alone, that means you’re going to have to get out of the car.”
I thought about this last night as she got ready to leave after staying with me for the two weeks I have been home from rehab for my broken hip.
“I’m ready to be on my own, thanks to you,” I said, pointing to the kitchen where she had carefully laid out everything so I didn’t have to bend, reach or turn in my walker.
Sara paused at the door. “Mom,” she said, “Let me make you lunch before I go, and I’ll leave it in the fridge for you.”
“Not necessary, honey. I really can make my own sandwich.”
“OK, I washed all the towels and left them out where you can reach them.”
Opening the refrigerator, I saw that she had left dinner carefully wrapped. “Great, I can just pop this in the oven and heat it.”
“You can’t open the oven. You would have to bend down. Oh my goodness, I knew I shouldn’t be leaving here yet.”
“It’s OK. I’ll just microwave it, so I won’t have to bend down.”
Sara stood in the doorway for a long time, assessing.
“OK,” she finally said, “the best chair for you to sit in is right over there where there’s plenty of room for your walker, and I put a cushion in the back.”
She added that she had taken the clothes out of the closet that I was going to wear the next day and left them on top of my dresser so they would be easy to access
“Am I missing anything?” she asked.
“I think you’re good to go, honey.”
“I’m really proud of you, Mom; you’re doing great, and I know you’re ready to be on your own.”
She stared at the door, but didn’t open it.
Suddenly, I understood how she felt the day I didn’t want to get out of the car and let her drive it alone.
“You know, Sara, if you think I’m ready to be on my own, that means you’re going to have to leave.”
She hesitated another moment and then quietly opened the door and left.
The times they are a-changin’.
Email Patriciabunin@sbcglobal.net. Follow her at PatriciaBunin.com