'Good Bye Bonfire"

My daughter had a bonfire in our backyard the night before her best friend left for college. Lots of kids showed up, although I noticed that their group has already begun to get smaller as one by one they head out on their new lives.


I wanted to be sure to be awake when all the kids had left just in case my girl was feeling sad and wanted to talk (as if) about her best friend's departure. But I was feeling unusually tired. I figured if I laid down in her room even if I dozed off I'd awaken when she came up for bed.


But here's the thing: Lying in her room, every time I closed my eyes I pictured my girl as a toddler. Running in the yard. Playing in the park. Walking around the lake with me. Holding my hand. Snuggling in bed with me. You get the idea.

And every time I opened my eyes I was confronted with the stack of boxes she's already packed to take to college.


I went back to my own room. And started to sob. Hard.


My husband: "It just doesn't make sense how you're reacting. This is an exciting time. A happy time."


Me: "It just doesn't make sense how you're reacting. All dry eyed and unemotional. Aren't you going to miss her?"


My husband: "Of course."


I went back to my girl's room. Before long everyone but my girl's two best friends had left. The three girls came up to my daughter's room and found me red eyed. I hugged the girls who have stuck with my daughter through those tough teen years and told them I loved them. We said our good byes.


"It didn't help that we saw Toy Story yesterday, did it?" one of her friends asked.


It did not.


Have you seen it?


It is a fantastic movie. Must see for every parent. Seriously. One of the moms suggested the three girls and their mamas see it together before the friends head off to college. Um...brutal.

B-R-U-T-A-L.


If you don't know the story, Andy is all grown up now and headed for college. He has to decide what to do with his beloved toys, including Woody and Buzz Lightyear. Of course the toys have many adventures throughout the film but in the end there is this painful decision. He is dreading it. The toys are dreading it. I am dreading it.


About the time Andy's mom walks into his mostly empty bedroom I lose it completely. Without spoiling anything for anyone who hasn't seen it, this is a movie about letting go. But also about sticking together. About moving on and about intense loyalty.


Here is what you need to know about me: I do not cry daintily. I wish I did. I admire it so. I am not the type who lets ladylike tears run down her face. I sob. I heave. I gasp for breath. I blow my nose. It is noisy. It is messy. It is embarrassing for three teenagers who are sitting with me in a theater.


But what could I do? This movies is killing me. K-I-L-L-I-N-G me.


The movie ends. I feel compelled to explain to the mother in front of me with the three little girls, one of whom is wearing glitter covered sneakers that periodically illuminate in the darkened theater, that I just watched the movie with my college bound daughter and her two best friends.


She is sweet. She is understanding. "Awww. It must be so hard."


"Just...you..wait..." I manage to stammer. "It...will...c...c...c...ome...f...f...faster...than...y...y...y...you...think."


And with that cheery thought we waltz out gripping our girls.

And the very next night it was time to say good bye.

After her friends had left I sat a while with my daughter on her bed. Me eyes were puffy. My face streaked with tears.

She threw her arm around my shoulder and said, "Mom, you're a mess."

What could I do but put my head on her shoulder and marvel that my very grown up girl was now comforting me.