A week.
One more week of our years-old school routine—of that predictable rhythm and cadence.
One more week of meal-planning and rushed mornings and fights over the bathroom.
One more week of "What's your homework situation?" and "Get your stuff done!" and "Ryley, hurry up!" and "Mom, are the jeans in the dryer?"
The cycle repeats itself week after week for years. And then, eventually, the weeks whittle their way down to one.
***
Flipping through the "Friday folder" and saving all the A+ work? Everything she wants to keep is now neatly stored in a tub in the garage.
Writing a check for the Scholastic book fair, or a field trip, or school pictures, or Skate City night, or the yearbook? Done, done, done, done, and done.
Reading monthly school newsletters? Stopped that years ago (shhhh!).
Letting our school lunch bill get built up until it's way behind and then scrambling to pay the balance before they deny her a meal? Done, thank goodness.
Receiving threatening letters in the mail about her tardies? Just five more days, guys. Five more days.
All the worries I had each spring about finding good, affordable summer childcare? Over.
Early-morning donut sales for Outdoor Lab and D.C. trip fundraising? No more.
Trying to brainstorm for a good science fair project? Never again.
Dragging ourselves to school music programs on a seasonal basis? Been there, done that. (And let me tell you: I strongly believe that when choosing a spouse, people need to consider that that's the kind of doldrum required in marriage; when you choose a husband, you're saying, "I want to sit next to YOU at all those school events and concerts and award ceremonies, heretoforth and forevermore." So, find a good one.)
Letting her drive by herself for the first time? And then letting her drive again? And again? Ugh. It IS getting easier ...
Finding a prom dress? Check!
Ironing the graduation gown? I hung it up today. Now it's starting to get real.
***
There have been some developments.
Last summer, my friend from work announced that she and her husband (in their 50s, and empty-nesters) were moving to Houston. As I talked to her about their plans and the super-trendy neighborhood they chose to live in, I found myself living vicariously through her. How fun would it be to just uproot and go on a new adventure? And what do we have to lose? We're still young. We don't have any other kids to put through high school. Ryan's a teacher and could theoretically work anywhere.
Though a bit daunting, the idea percolated in my brain over the next few months, and the wheels started turning.
In the fall, through my brother-in-law, an incredible job opportunity pretty much landed in my lap—and by December, I was working completely remotely, in a new field, with co-workers all over the globe. One more tie to Denver snapped as, suddenly, it didn't matter where I lived. At the time, the perk I was most excited about was being home with Ryley while she completed her senior year virtually. But in retrospect, I see that God's plan was so much bigger than that.
Shortly after Ryley decided to attend Baylor, Ryan started researching the Waco area, Austin (a place he's always loved), and everything in between.
"I can't get it out of my head that we should be within reach of her," he said.
The three of us have always been extraordinarily close. I recently read the book Upstairs at the White House, which is a great read, all about the presidents and first ladies from the mid '40s to the early '70s. The family that stood out to me was President Harry Truman, his wife Bess, and their 21-year-old daughter Margaret. The three were very close, with two of them often teaming up on the other, and according to staff, there was always lots of laughter amongst them.
Ryan and I always wanted a bigger family, but when we didn't get that, we threw ourselves into raising the kiddo we did have. As a result, our family dynamic is pretty close-knit—we're a bit of a trio—a unit. We want Ryley to have her space to grow and do her thing in college. We don't want to smother her. But would it be so bad to be an hour or two away?
In addition, my parents and my brother's family are in Dallas, and travel to see them is always such a pain—and then it's hard to leave at the end of the visit. It just kind of makes sense that we move closer. Not next-door, but within an "easy weekend trip" distance.
All of that is to say that Ryan started exploring the cities of Texas. He applied for many a teaching job, and we put it in God's hands.
From the very beginning, we asked Ryley what she thought. We wanted to make sure she wouldn't be bitter (later on in life) that we left Colorado and moved her "homebase," so to speak.
"As long as you don't live IN Waco," she told us, "I don't care where you live. YOU GUYS are my home."
My heart melted.
We diligently started working to clean up our house so we could put it on the market. We've lived here 14 years—we raised Ryley here from the age of 3, and this house has endured many versions and seasons of us as people, so the clean-up and clean-out was no easy task.
Every weekend for a month, we tackled a different part of the house. There were 14 straight days in April where the individual pieces of Ryley's entire childhood lay strewn across our living room floor, as we lugged boxes and tubs down from her room and in from the garage so she could sort and make decisions. We rented a dumpster for the driveway and did some pretty hefty yardwork and garage organizing. We took four loads to Goodwill.
But even then, we wondered if we were doing the right thing. Ryan was going through countless interviews (it seemed) and even flew down to Austin to teach a demo lesson at his "dream school." Our lives were in limbo, just a month and a half before our daughter was to graduate. And it was our doing. Why were we doing this??
Two days before we were scheduled to list our house, Ryan found out that he got the job! That made it so much easier to wrap our heads around selling our house! Then, after a busy three days of 109 showings and 13 offers, the house went under contract. It was a week of miracles!
"Do you feel like us selling the house the same month as your graduation is taking attention away from this milestone?" I asked Ryley.
"No, I'm glad it keeps your mind busy," she responded. "This way you're not so emotional."
She knows me well.
So that's where we're at. The move to Austin is on the backburner until Ryley's graduation and celebration are behind us. Then, we will kick everything into high gear with finding a house and moving before the end of July—when we'll happily trade the aroma of legalized marijuana in the air for the more appealing smell of barbecue.
I'm sure I'll have more to say about this soon. But we are excited for a new adventure—a new area of the country to explore, while still living relatively close to both Ryley and my family. We've seen God's hand at work through this whole process—from planting the idea in my head a year ago, to the new job for me, to the dream job for Ryan, to our house selling so quickly. The pieces are all falling into place.
For now though, I'm going to soak up this very last week of "normalcy." True to form, and similar to many Sunday nights over the last 13 years, Ryley has asked me to watch her rehearse her senior thesis presentation right now.
Happily, sweetheart. Happily.
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