We Belong

I don't belong here. That is the overwhelming feeling I get as I walk around College Park, as I drive through the University of Maryland campus, as I trudge in and out of Taryn's apartment building with bags from Target and IKEA, as I sit in Applebee's watching her and her boyfriend share secret stories over dinner. This is a real college town, so filled with students that at times it seems that no other brand of human even resides here, making my presence feel like an alien one, an intrusive one, a foreigner in a strange land.

I belonged here once, many years ago (not literally of course - I went to SUNY Oswego, then SUNY Stony Brook), and I don't believe my experience was vastly different from Taryn's, at least not according to the parts of her life that she shares with me. The late night cramming for tests, the bar-hopping, the inside jokes with friends, the 2 a.m. Domino's deliveries, hours spent at the library, finding the new friends that just get who you are, the sharing of ideas, the football games (OK, fine, maybe not that - Stony Brook didn't have much of a sports presence back then). Back then - I was not a stranger.

What's funny is that as much as I loved my college experience, I don't find myself wishing I was back there, even when I am surrounded by it again, as I have been during the past week while helping Taryn move into her new apartment (she's taking summer classes). It is true that I don't belong here - but I DO belong exactly where I am right now, in the present, and that's a feeling I enjoy immeasurably, particularly since I never really know when that is going to be taken away from me.

She belongs here, this place where she is loved and respected and adored and cherished. I've met her friends; I've seen the light in their eyes when they are around her; I've watched how they care for her and protect her and make her laugh. I love that she has this, but at the same time I deeply sigh - she is probably not going to be back home with us for any real length of time (a few weeks maybe? At Christmastime?) in the next few years and at times that causes my heart to lurch, to skip a beat, to sink slowly into the pit of my stomach, to come close to breaking. But...but...she belongs here, here at the beginning of the next stage of her life, where she will craft a present and a future that will make her happy.

Because really, no matter what, we will always belong to each other. I am her mother, she is my daughter and whoever else we belong to as well, now and in the future, it will never change this fact, it will never diminish the bond, it will never feel like a foreign place to either of us. We belong.

Some practical (health) matters: I've begun meeting with the oral surgeon and the maxillofacial prosthodontist ("What do YOU want to be when you grow up Johnny?" "Either a fireman or a maxillofacial prosthodontist Dad!") to map out a strategy for replacing the teeth that were pulled during surgery and radiation. I'm guessing late summer/early fall for actual work to be done, either implants or a bridge depending on their recommendations. Other than that, I am feeling great - I'm in the "Hey, maybe I beat this thing for good" phase (denial is my favorite part of all this, I'm gonna hang onto it as long as I can) and am preparing for an awesome summer.

Blessings and Love to All.