Bittersweet

Put Kasia on a plane to New York a couple of days ago, and it's taken me a bit to blog about it because, you know, I'm very very proud of her, but it was still hard to watch her disappearing past security. I kept moving around to improve the angle and keep a line of sight as long as possible, but, you know, it's not like you can see Queens from Houston. When you're being assaulted by about eighteen years of memories all at once it's pretty hard to keep your composure.

Just got an e-mail from her and she's gotten 27 AP credit hours including six in core courses, making her a sophomore when she stepped off the plane. Did I mention I was proud of her?

A minor anecdote (which is of course much easier for me to write about than are poignant farewells, flippancy being my natural state): while I was talking to Kasia at the airport, there outside the Southwest check-in counter at Hobby, I idly noted a late thirty-something woman with a rather distressed look running past us behind Kasia's back. Mostly I noted it because...how shall I put it...this was not a woman who looks like she runs much. So I casually thought, "Don't look like she does that much," but paid no more attention because I didn't have much time left to talk with Kasia and had no time to spare for distraction.

Then about two minutes later the woman comes back, looking very relieved.

With a two-year-old boy in her arms.

[shaking head silently while imagining the moment in which she turned around from checking in and realized the kid had escaped, as two-year-olds notoriously are apt to do]