18 and on the Cusp of Freedom

18 and on the cusp of freedom finds us here.  She should be preparing for graduation, whiling hours away with her buddies, getting a job, preparing for college cheer tryouts, shopping for her dorm room.  Yet here we are.  I’m her only option for a running partner and I’m trying my hardest to keep up.  Selfishly I’m enjoying this time with our family.  Yet my heart aches watching all that she longs for.  (This was my Facebook post from March 22, 2020-we continue to run 5 miles 3x a week and will start adding a mile each Friday to do the Capital City Virtual half marathon).

It’s the abrupt finality of it all.  No winding down.  No countdown to the last few days walking the halls that at first felt so big and foreign at age 14, now so familiar they can be navigated with eyes closed.  Halls that now feel like home.  Where so many emotions, feelings, experiences, lessons in and out of the classroom we’re felt, learned, experienced, lived.

Today, after gathering in a car corral (assuming they kept proper social distances) they agreed its the little things they miss, like driving to school.  18 year old kids shouldn’t have to miss driving to school.

Last night she was dreaming of a second prom dress.  A gorgeous emerald green dress.  Naively thinking she might still get a prom.

Friday, April 6, 2020 at 2:30pm, Governor Inslee announced no students in k-12 grades in Washington will return to their classrooms for the remainder of the year.  After a tearful FaceTime with my favorite teacher friend I went to the backyard to find Sarina.  I hugged her as she cried and she asked if she’ll get a graduation.  I didn’t have a real answer.  My best guess was if not, they’ll come up with something amazing.

This is how I found her. She was beginning a painting, the popular stylized Japanese wave.  It looks like a tidal wave.  Kind of how things feel right now, like a massive tidal wave looming above us, beautiful and terrifying all at the same time.

This is a discarded art project I found.  I love the message, and hope they remember it.

And this was my letter to seniors I posted to Facebook today.  While we feel the sharp pants of loss, I hope they can see the gifts this time may give them.

Dear class of 2020:

I believe that this class, the class of 2020, 

is destined for greatness.  

A typical senior year must not have been right for you, because you are EXTRAORDINARY.  

Every last one of you.  

You will go out and do amazing things, 

be great people, 

inspire 

and bring about the change our world needs to heal and prosper.  

While I’m heartbroken you don’t have a common senior year, that milestones the rest of us took for granted may not happen for you, I know- without a doubt- that now is YOUR time to shine through this darkness.  

Show the world how wonderful we can be.  

Soon, you will be our leaders.

And I cannot wait to watch all the incredible things you all do, 

in big ways 

and small ways.

You will do them with grace,

and patience,

and with thoughful consideration for each other and our neighbors throughout the world.

I believe in you.