A Driver's Mother

My name is Sheila, and I'm a control freak.

I'm also a crier, and both of those qualities contributed to the monstrous tears which welled up in my eyes this week when my baby girl drove out of the garage alone for the first time. Katie got her driver's license.

It was as if her whole life flashed before my eyes. Rocking her to sleep, seeing her take her first steps, her first trip on the school bus, learning to read, getting her braces on (and off), killing a serve on her middle school volleyball team, walking into high school for the first time, and seeing her on stage in the school play for the first time. I have been there to see all of it, but after she drove down the street by herself for the first time, I couldn't see her at all.

I cried, and I prayed. Then the control freak took over, wondering if she was going where she told me she was, would she remember how to get there, and what about all of those other faceless drivers out on the roads with her? It's terrifying for that control freak.

For the crier, it's bittersweet. I love seeing the young woman my Katie is becoming, but I miss that baby I held and rocked, and I miss that little child who sang all day long, and loved to have tea parties and go shopping. She still loves shopping, and now tea at the Cincinnatian or the Netherland is more her style, but she'll always be my baby. Especially when she's driving away.