Moving forward, her dreams come true
As dawn broke, I asked my daughter Kellie, “Want to rethink this?”
“Dad!”
I was looking for some Eastern Washington or Washington State University brochures. She laughed and said, “Dad, it’s a little late.”
In a couple of hours I was flying with my daughter to Omaha, Neb., for her to start college as a Creighton University freshman.
Resigned, I pulled out my favorite suitcase to pack. Apparently, it was the cat’s favorite too, and it left its “Eau de Feline” signature scent behind. The family budget was empty after all the dorm furnishing-shopping trips, so a quick washing and a car air freshener was my best attempt to solve the problem.
Kids leave the family home in one of two ways — either slinking out the back door with some spontaneous, ill-conceived plan or via the front door, with fanfare and complete family support, which in this case included a family reunion-type airport sendoff.
I hadn’t flown since pre-9/11, and as Kellie and I made our way to the gate, I was suddenly pulled aside, wanded, probed, and examined until it was proven I was carrying nothing sharper than licorice. As I endured the process, I kept hoping commercial beef is inspected as thoroughly.
Our budget-price airline tickets required plane changes, which I took as a chance to ensure that Kellie knew about airline travel. I was lecturing her on always listening for airport announcements when she said, “Oh, like the one they made five minutes ago that our flight was final boarding?” I gave her an A, and we hustled aboard.
Growing up, Kellie had a love affair with the Laura Ingalls Wilder books, and pulling into Omaha by air, she remarked about how flat it looked. I thought about how dreams often come true, and her dorm will be her Little House on the Prairie. After arriving, one last chain store scavenger hunt, and a night’s sleep, we awoke on the threshold of her new life.
We loaded up our rented pickup truck with more gear than Lewis and Clark, and headed to Moving-In Day at Creighton. There, we entered a queue of similarly packed vehicles as we waited our turn to unload in the dorm’s cul-de-sac. As our pickup reached the head of the line, I went to put on the parking brake — well, it’s where the parking brake is in my truck. The hood flew open. And as the move leader motioned for me to roll the window down, I was unable too. My daughter laughed and said, “You may not be college material, Dad.” I think those shared laughs are what I’ll miss about her the most.
Once in the cul-de-sac, yellow-shirted volunteers swarmed over us as we all disgorged laptops, plastic storage units, crates, and bedding to be carried to the dorm rooms. Kellie’s room turned out to be on the fifth floor. As I was reached the main floor and headed upstairs, a young woman motioned, “The elevator is over there,” but in a moment of macho, I chose the stairs. I chose the stairs eight times that day. Macho can kill the overly vain.
When I first saw Kellie’s new dorm room, I saw cramped quarters. She saw the Taj Mahal. Luckily her new roommate’s parents were closet industrial engineers and we quickly transformed their room into a Better Homes and Gardens “after” picture.
Later, as I walked the beautiful campus, it struck me. Kellie was living my dream. Growing up, I always wanted to attend Toledo University, but finances and the draft had other ideas. But my child fulfilling her dream is sweeter than me fulfilling mine.
As it came time for me to leave, and for Kellie to stay, we decided to forgo the 16th birthday accord about no hugging in public, and we shared a long hug and an “I love you.” As she walked away, I saw her brushing back a tear … but I can’t be really sure due to the tears I had in my eyes.