June 16, 2014

Let It Go ... Not The Song

"I don't like talking to people," D1 said as we got into the car to make our way to the STATE university for her week-long Summer Science Academy. 

"I know," I nodded. "Neither do I most of the time, but I do it anyway."

We had this conversation a dozen times on our way there.



And just before I left her for the week, we had that conversation again. 

And she hugged me like she used to hug me before she got all cool and teenagery and stuff. 

And I came this -><- a="" an="" baby="" back="" campus="" cannot="" car="" close="" et="" flippin="" for="" i="" in="" leave="" my="" on="" p="" saying="" the="" to="" university="" week.="" whole="">


But I didn't. 

I snapped a picture of her being teenagery instead and walked her to the commons where she said, "I don't like talking to new people." I nodded.  Because I couldn't talk, I nodded.

Then I left her with a couple of other girls and a college mentor where they began discussing and cussing The Fault in Our Stars, both the book and the movie.

I choked back tears and threatened the lump in my throat to stay where it was as I waited for the elevator. If I could just get on the elevator and make my way down the four flights, I'd be good.

I stepped into the elevator and pressed 1. Then I bit my lip and told myself to pull it together. I could still hear the group talking about how sweet Gus and Hazel were and how hard they cried when he just wasn't in the movie/book anymore.

And then I pressed 1 again, but I wasn't moving.

And I pressed it again and again and again. When it was clear after thirty-two presses that I wasn't moving, I pressed the door open button. Nothing. I pressed it repeatedly a dozen times. Nothing. I pressed every button to no avail. I ran my hand down the button area ala Buddy The Elf and got nothing. I even pressed the alarm. It made a lame ding, ding, ding sound. I barely even heard it. 

Finally, I called the campus help line. Since it was Sunday, I got an automated system that promptly hung up on me. Twice. I pressed the elevator help button and got this sound: Wah Wah Wah. So, I pulled the director's number from my back pocket and called her. Right after she promised to get me out, the electricity went out.

So, I Instagrammed it. 



I also took a selfie (which showed just how black it was), and I texted everyone I know. 

This is the response from my hubby who was still at D2's softball tournament (they won, BTW):



So much for concern from the father of the baby I was abandoning at summer camp!

Finally, twenty minutes later, a campus policeman showed up and struggled at manually opening the door. I would have helped him, but I was in the middle of a text to my friend, Denise. 

I bolted down the stairs and sped away. I texted D1 to take the stairs the whole week. And then I drove away. I let my baby and her mandatory-stair-climbing dorm go. 

When we were making summer plans, we had inadvertently scheduled D1 and D2 for camp at the same time. Initially, I was worried. Then I was excited. Some alone time for momma? Yes. I just had no idea it would come so quickly ... or in hot, dark elevator. 


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