18 And Life

So my daughter is newly 18. Some consider this to be adulthood. People say things like "s/he's your responsibility for eighteen years." Eighteen year olds are still in high school. Eighteen year olds are still teenagers. And my 18 year old will always be my baby.

When I look through Lindsay's baby photos, a sadness comes over me. It's sort of like a death, you know. That part of life is over and it's never coming back. Pictures are all you have, the ones in the photo album and the ones in your head. Even though I love Lindsay at this age and every age, I mourn the loss of that time of innocence, the way she needed me and the way I needed her. I suppose this is why some people have so many children, because they never want to give up being needed in that way. Personally, I can't imagine having more than one. I have so much love for Lindsay that the idea of dividing it between multiple children seems impossible.

Now she says I'm too clingy. She thinks it's silly that I get so emotional when looking at her pictures or reminiscing over her baby days. But she obliges me. I'm lucky that we are so close and she's right here and I can squeeze her when I want to. We joke about me living in her basement when she gets married. She's going to college locally so I can still pretend she's my baby for a while longer.