January 19, 2014 (this day)

IMG_0005It looks like my daughter may accept a job that will be at least nine hours away from me by car.

This makes me really really happy, and really really sad.

It’s impossible to be too sad in a situation like this.  She is alive and well and talking to me.  She made it through (in reverse order) grad school, working, regular school, adolescence, childhood.  I remember when I brought her home from the hospital and she screamed hour after hour.  I couldn’t picture having a kindergartener and was sure something would happen to her along the way.  And things did happen, but she aced kindergarten and at least made it through the rest.  She’s a scientist.  And nine hours is in my time zone.  And I can afford a car that can do it.  And it’s in this country and in a nice place and there are cell phones and Facebook and airplanes and texts.

It’s impossible to be sad when I know people on chemo, I know people who care for their grandchildren because their children are incapable.  I know people who are unemployed and people who struggle with alcohol.

I’ve practiced being grateful for 35 years now, and I’ve gotten very good at it.

But . . . nine hours.  I feel a sharp little pain about that.  Say the pain is .1% out of 100%.  I know I can’t feed it and water it and help it grow bigger, the way I helped my little girl.

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