When we were a young couple and we’d visit other people’s houses, I’d sometimes notice a child(ren)’s height markings inside a door jamb. My dad used to measure me against a 4×4 post that supported our patio arbor at the old house in Bear Creek and mark and date my height with a pencil on the post. If that post is still there, I’m sure my growth has long-since faded or been painted.
I guess we waited until Maly was three before we started measuring her at our house for fun and nostalgia. We always knew that this probably won’t be our forever home, so I wanted to mark her height on something we could take with us. So I bought a stick of 1×4 composite primed trim and screwed it into the drywall right next to the garage door. And that’s where we’ve marked our children since 2009.
Today I was helping Mara hang her really cool 3D sea animals that she made out of cardboard frames and paper mache. I went out to the garage to get the ladder, which is right next to the girls’ measuring sticks, and I caught myself gazing at the last 16 years in a blink. As fast as it takes to scan the 46 meticulously-drawn lines is how fast it feels those years have passed. But I’m happy and thankful to have these lines. And the five(ish) years we still have with Mara and more lines to be drawn.
I haven’t cried once since Maly left for college a couple weeks ago. I’ve gotten a little weepy at times, but I hadn’t shed a tear. In two whole weeks — actually, closer to three weeks now that I think about it. This time last year I would’ve been crying 3-4 times daily.
Today I got the weepiest as I looked at the top part of that left measuring stick. That one’s Maly’s. I got weepy because it wasn’t until she’d already been down the road for five hours on her way back to college did I remember to measure her. I texted her a few hours later to check on her, and to jokingly tell her that I needed her to come back so we could measure her. Except I wasn’t really joking. I really wanted her to come home. So I could measure her. And so I could hug and hold her again. So I could take away whatever hurts from her. So I could tell her I love her over and over again.
And for whatever reasons, I had this thought for the first time: when do I stop measuring her? Should we do it during her winter break? Or does it just become an annual tradition that we do before the start of a new school year? And then I thought about how she’ll be 20 years old at her next birthday. And then I had a thought that set me on my heels and took my breath away. That top one. That last one. That’s the last one. That was the last one.
This is where you stop.
I remember walking behind her as we were headed to the driveway to pile into the rental van. She stopped in the office to say goodbye to Blue and she was crying. I was crying too. I just didn’t let her know that I was.
I’d measured her earlier that morning. I don’t remember if it was hours or thirty minutes before we’d left. I think it was Elise’s reminder to measure her. I thought it was cute. “Oh, yeah. This is a big one! The day you move away to college.” And never did the thought cross my mind that it could be the last. But maybe it should be. She was 18 years old when she moved out to go to college out of state. As her Boppa always told me, “you’ve given her roots and wings.” She’ll always have a home here, but she’s an adult now. I hope one day she’ll be marking my grandchild’s height on a nice piece of wood and not a cheap piece of primed particle board trim from Home Depot.
I think I’d like to leave that cheap piece of trim measuring stick as-is for as long as we stick it out in this home. I’d imagine I’ll look at a lot more these days. That’s why I put it there.
Reading this made me kind of weepy, too.!! You’re right. She has fled the nest. And, just like a baby bird, this nest will never be her real home again. A place to come home to for a visit, yes, always. But a forever place to live, no. You and Elise have done your duty as parents by giving her wings to fly on her own. God willing, she will meet a companion with whom she can settle down and create her own nest and her own little birds that someday will fly the nest. Sad as it is at times, that’s what life has been about since man first walked the earth eons ago.
Eventually, you will come to appreciate and love her as a mature young woman who can fly on her own because of the solid base you gave her. Speaking from experience, that can be as good as when she was a little girl. I feel that way about our little girl — now your wife and the mother of our granddaughters. The feelings are different for sure, but just as intense — maybe more intense — than when she was a little girl. My heart swells with pride when I see the young woman she has become. Yours will, too, someday!