Last Monday was the last first day of school in the K-12 realm for Katie Girl. At the risk of sounding mushy and sappy, it really and truly does not seem like twelve years have passed since my first-born went trotting off to kindergarten. I remember the day so vividly. She was wearing a denim jumper, and I can remember the way her little bobbed hair-do shone in the early morning sun. I didn’t let her take the bus. I drove her all the way to school.

Katie has always been an independent sort. I knew it even back then. It didn’t surprise me at all when she quickly trotted off to her class without even looking back.

A lot has changed in the past twelve years. My Katie now spells her name Katy. Just because she likes it that way. She’s been to Disneyland, Washington, DC, France and Italy, all without me. She has a job, a career plan and goals. She has a nice boyfriend, and her very own laptop computer that she bought with only money she earned this summer. She is almost 17 and she is almost driving.

And today, I drove her all the way to school. She was wearing denim jeans, a black hooded top, earrings and make-up. It didn’t surprise me when she waved good-bye and then quickly trotted off to class without even looking back.

Apparently, looking back is the Mom’s job.