I don’t want my baby girl to ever know that after I said goodbye to her and I watched as she walked along the ivy-covered gates back to her dorm room, I cried uncontrollably. Even though I had already decided to stay in the city for nine days so that I could make sure she was settled, I don’t want her to know that I cried so hard it hurt my throat. I don’t want her to know that I could barely order my food that night because I couldn’t speak through the sobs.
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| comfort food from Burger/Burger |
When I visited her the next day in her dorm room, I didn’t mention that I used an entire box of tissues the night before. I didn’t want her to know that I felt like I was cheating on her when I watched our favorite TV show without her. As I lay on her bed with her and she cried, I didn’t let one tear fall as I listened to her fears. I didn’t give her any inkling that I was ready to pack her up and take her home if only she uttered the words that she didn’t want to stay.
On the third day, I didn’t see her. She was busy with orientation meetings.
I spent the morning in the Temple, the only place on this earth where there is true peace.
On the fourth day, I was in her dorm room for about two hours. I didn’t see her for more than ten minutes, though. You see, she was busy playing cards in another room with a bunch of girls while I tried unsuccessfully to install her printer.
On the fifth day, I checked out the closest Target in case she ever felt like she needed a fix. I wanted to get the route down. I tried to meet up with her to help her do her laundry, but she didn’t have time.
On the sixth day, I met her at Columbus Circle and 59th Street. Two of her friends from high school, who also are attending school in the city, met us for dinner. Her first Friday night in the Big Apple was spent having dinner with friends.
On the seventh day, she had a meeting in the morning. I met up with her later in the day, and we bopped around Chelsea and the High Line. Then she and her older sister, who had flown in for the long weekend, went back to school to hang with friends.
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| Artichoke Basille’s Pizza |
On the eighth day, I was informed that I needed to go to church on my own. It would have been too weird to have her mom with her at church on her first Sunday in her new YSA Ward. Later that day, both girls joined me at my hotel (which was a forty-five minute train ride away) for a sleepover. We journeyed to the 9/11 Memorial, and this time we shed tears of sadness for a different reason.
On the ninth day, we shopped and shopped and ate and shopped. The three of us spent the day just as if nothing were different. Their good friend met us for some pizza and more shopping. I went back with them to the dorm room and finally did her laundry. I said goodbye that night as they walked me to the subway entrance. I had to catch a plane for home the next morning. As I gave her a kiss through her thick, dark hair, she was fine. I was fine. Time had passed, and we knew that everything was going to be okay.
