My first back-to-school day in almost two decades without a back-to-schooler. Shana sat on the counter this morning, legs dangling down, all dressed up, eating one of the little eggy quiche muffin things she made ahead of time on Sunday to help the morning rat race before work go more smoothly. She's figuring it all out. She's all grown up. The tank tops and flip flops have been replaced with pencil skirts, cardis and heels. I asked her if she misses school and right away she said yes. The friends, the Tucson house, the campus, I'm sure. But then came reality. "Well, I don't really miss the tests. Or the studying. Or writing all of those papers." Then she gathered up her laptop, the just-texted Starbucks order from her new BFF at work and hit the freeway, leaving me to watch the neighborhood kids walk by the window to the bus stop. And even though I've got her at home for another month before she moves out for good, I took one look at the bus today and cried.
