College-bound kids and their parents have to keep pedaling

I spied her early in the morning on a sandy stretch of road with little traffic.

She was headed my way, so I gave her plenty of room. Not that she noticed. The kid was focused, her eyes narrow, a small frown on her face.

A young man was jogging alongside, holding the seat of her purple bike with his fingertips.

"You can do it! You're doing great!" he cheered, before he gently let go. He did that dad thing, where he pretended to be holding on when he wasn't.

The wary girl glanced his way, wobbled, then took off.

No training wheels! Yippee,

Independence Day.

It was a gift, that moment. And a metaphor for what lies ahead.

Yes, I just got back from college orientation. How could you tell?

I spent two days in another state, measuring dorm rooms, comparing meal plans and touring campus, all while wearing a name tag that identified me as someone who had traveled a great distance.

"I think it's good for kids to really leave home for college," I told everyone who asked. "Besides, I won't have to worry about her coming home on weekends with bags of dirty laundry."

Say that enough times and you start to believe it.

Actually, I do believe it. But letting go of that bike seat is no easier now than it was 14 years ago when it was my kid pedaling furiously for the first time on two wheels.

These days, her bike is rusty and propped outside the house. Inside, a corner of her bedroom is piled with college stuff. Every day there's more. If I keep busy with lists and shopping and complaining about the mess, I don't have time to think about how empty and neat that bedroom will be in just seven weeks.

Across the room, her faded swim-team ribbons hang next to those horseback-riding awards, which are next to the snapshots from when she was taller than her brother. And the new prom pictures.

On a shelf, beside her gnawed copy of "Goodnight Moon" and the recently read "On the Road," is a little religious book given by her grandparents on her first Communion. Love you forever says the handwritten inscription from the doting pair who died 10 years ago.

It's almost time to let go of her bike seat, the way they let go of mine.

Still, it's hard to imagine her leaving, especially as the house reverberates with teenagers staying with us for the Fourth of July. They dash in and out at all hours, a cacophony of kids.

I awakened Tuesday night to peals of laughter from my kitchen. I was tempted to ask them to pipe down, until I thought about how silent this house will be come August.

I rolled over and smiled.

After all, hundreds of us at a parents-only "Is It Really Time to Say Goodbye?" orientation session raised our right hands and swore we wouldn't cry in the parking lot on college move-in day.

We also promised to leave.

"There's no room for you in the dorm," the facilitator joked. "Not even for a night or two. You have to go home once they're unpacked."

We all laughed. But a few of the parents - not me, of course - were sniffling.

The organizers tossed out tissues.

Sometimes you need them when you're letting go.

Kerry Dougherty, (757) 446-2306, kerry.dougherty@cox.net