e-missed

So this weekend, my sister-in-law forwards an email she got from my daughter at college. It's a nice chatty, informative and affectionate note, the kind I wish she'd send to me, except for one thing. She says "Hey Aunty R! I'm looking forward to seeing you all for Thanksgiving, a friend of mine lives in Portland and they are going to be driving back for Thanksgiving break so as far as I know I have a spot in the car..." Aside from the usual fears (is the spot in the trunk, does the trunk have a seat belt, will this car get smashed like a pumpkin on the highway, what friend from Portland? male or female?) this message reveals that Kalei never read an email I sent 3 weeks earlier informing her that I had bought an airline ticket for her to Portland for Thanksgiving and that Aunty R generously offered to pay for it. What's more, Kalei and I talked about this before she left for college and she even told me her preferred dates. I see now that she handled this inquiry, along with a multitude of others, by tossing answers my way hoping to keep me occupied and at bay for the moment. Then I recall how in those early weeks, as Mark and I fumbled our way towards the best strategy for communication with the girl, we (Mark and I) decided that email was the best medium for business items, so there'd be a record (ha!) and so she could deal with it when she was ready (Ha! ha! Ha!). And so I sent her maybe 4 or 5 emails around that time, which in Kalei-land is apparently parental overload. So, strategy be damned, I called the ungrateful wretch on the spot, and of course, waited, frustrated and fuming, for a return call. When we finally talked later in the day, about 75% of our time was spent in full blown miscommunication over which medium to use for communication, and the balance defensively trying to untangle how we got so jammed up. Then Kalei called back to apologize, thank me for buying the ticket, and yes, as much as she hates the airlines who will without a doubt lose her luggage again, she will fly to Portland.

The next evening, an email arrives bearing photos of her friends, with captions listing their names. She calls shortly after to talk us through them. The photos show fresh-faced youth, boys and girls, hiking across dunes with skim boards to the coast, building beach bonfires at night. They appear to be a decent crowd, not highly hipped out, no dreds or obvious piercings (though one has a cigarette). The girls live in her dorm (her age), the boys are "transfer students" (older).

Now if we could get academic detail I'd be in heaven (chimes in the perennial worrier and wanter). But (saith the wiser letting go-kine parent on my left shoulder) ... this is a lot; a thoughtfully crafted gift of a glimpse into her new life, something to savor and celebrate. Mazeltov, mama! a good omen for the new year (Yom Kippur).