This Bird Has Flown

Last weekend my husband Paul, daughter Marcy and I made the grueling ten hour drive, schlepping Marcy and all her stuff to George Mason University (GMU) in Virginia.  This is Marcy’s sophomore year.

Last year the three of us experienced the wild emotions of sending your kid off to college for the first time.  Marcy was scared to death and was afraid that nobody would like her.  We were scared to death – this was our baby, and were sending her off to the unknown to fend for herself.  The minute Paul and I got in the car after moving Marcy into her dorm I wanted to run back in, take her in my arms and protect her from all the horrible things in this world – drunken boys, mean girls, drunken boys.  When we got home I went into her room and sat there for hours, looking at all the little girl stuff she had left behind -- Pokemon cards; ceramic tea pots; mountains of stuffed animals; her favorite tiny white "cha-cha" shoes she wore as a toddler.  I went to her closet and sniffed her clothes and visions of the shy, tiny young girl overwhelmed me.

Two weeks later Marcy called us; she was out of breath as she told us that she had auditioned and made it into Urbanknowledgy 101, (UK 101), George Mason's hip-hop dance team.  She got her first English paper back and got an "A."  She had lots of friends.  She loved her classes.  She was in better shape than we were.

The following month we went to visit her during Parents’ Weekend.  We watched Marcy and her UK 101 team perform to a full house during “Mason Madness” in the huge campus arena.  After the show she found us in the crowd and introduced us to two of her team members.  They were giggling excitedly after dancing their hearts out.  We were going to take Marcy to dinner, but she said, "Oh, Mom, I'm sorry.  There's a party for UK101 and we're all going.  You don't mind, do you?"  Then she was off, cell phone attached to her ear.


I felt differently this time when we left her to return home.  She had settled into her new life and was happy.  But a new emotion hit me -- she no longer needed us.

When Marcy returned home this summer she told us that she loved college.  She said she felt like she had matured and that she could make it on her own. She felt free.  We saw very little of her while she was home.  Our house was little more than a bed and home base for Marcy and all her stuff.

When Paul and I returned from Virginia last week there were no tears.  Marcy was reunited with her friends and got right back into the swing of campus life.  She’s fully independent now.  We expected to never hear from her this semester.

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Friday, 4:30 p.m. Marcy calls, screaming hysterically.  She lost her debit card.  Luckily I was able to put a stop on her card.  But now there was a new dilemma -- she had no way to access money in her account.  And it’s Labor Day weekend.  And Marcy needs to buy textbooks.  Panic set in.

I go to the website of the Virginia bank where Marcy has an account and figure out a way to electronically transfer money from her account back home, to the Virginia account.  Problem:  the Virginia bank has to send test deposit and withdrawal transactions between banks before they can finalize setting up this feature.  This will take a couple of days.  And it's Labor Day weekend.

Plan B.  I go to Western Union’s website.  I fill out online forms to wire money to Marcy.  The transaction doesn’t go through.  WTF??!!  I call Western Union.  New plan.  Paul goes to nearest Western Union office with $500 in cash.  He waits in line FOREVER because this place also cashes checks and everybody in the world was there cashing paychecks for the long Labor Day weekend.

Paul is finally able to wire money to a Western Union office in a supermarket near GMU.  I call Marcy and tell her where to pick up the money.  Mission accomplished.

Ten minutes later Marcy calls from her car and says she can't figure out how to get to the supermarket which is about 1.5 mi. away from campus and involves only three turns on major roadways.  Google in one hand, phone in the other, I become her co-pilot.  Go straight.  Left at lights.  Left at lights.  She finds the store.  She gets the money.

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So what are the reasons to be cheerful in this story?  We nurtured a shy, scared little girl and helped her become a well-adjusted, intelligent, and (mostly) self-sufficient woman.  Yes, the nest is empty; this bird has flown.  But she still needs us in her life.

MARCY, Summer 2010