(My Scion XA is white).
The twist? My car is in the shop. Last week, before my daughter returned, I just took her car when I needed to go somewhere. Today, it's not so simple.
Today, she is my transportation, a situation I find rather amusing. After being the keeper of the keys for most of her life, I find myself in the position of asking her if she can transport me. She does so willingly, of course, but it is an odd twist of circumstances nevertheless.
I find myself in a similar situation with my own mother now as well. After years of taking care of us, my mother needs us to take care of her. My father, lovingly solicitous of my mother's needs, runs the show while my sister and I ride shotgun. It's hard for my mom to let go and let us do things for her, something I both understand and wish I could change. I want her to be able to relax and leave things in the hands she has made capable, but I know that, when she does, it is more of necessity than choice.
Letting go is a complicated process. Sometimes easy (letting my daughter drive) and sometimes difficult (letting her go to London), it is a part of life. We raise our kids to be confident and independent, and, when they accomplish these tasks successfully, we are filled with pride.
But letting go is also bittersweet. Not being needed is simultaneously freeing and burdensome, as we adjust to the shifting roles that are part of the parent-child dance. And, at the end of that cotillion,
it's a gift to be able to return, in kind, what has been so generously and freely given, but it is a gift sometimes tinged with sadness.
It's all part of the dance. Sometimes we lead, and sometimes we follow.
And sometimes it gets topsy-turvy.