My daughter, Elizabeth, is enrolled in a Nova Southeastern M.S. in Counseling program with a concentration in Clinical Mental Health Counseling. It is a low-residency program, meaning that most coursework involves rigorous online study while several times her cohort will assemble at Nova Fort Lauderdale for onsite, in-person practice and reflection.

Last week, near the end of term two, was her initial in-person experience. Preceding this visit, she had meticulously planned a two-week trip to a music festival and to visit friends in three states, building an itinerary that allowed to her to spend time working hard on school in friends’ homes, cafes, and other wi-fi sites. She would “grind out work,” she told me.

A few months ago, she asked if I wanted to join her in Fort Lauderdale. What an opportunity! Sure, she’d be immersed in school most of the time, but I was coming off another busy academic year and thought some downtime sounded pretty nice.

She set it all up, reserving cheap flights and a rental car via whiz-bang apps (these kids today!), and we even got a Marriott Courtyard for a great price. While she was in class, I finished a novel and cleaned up an issue of The Atlantic. Then we spent a day at the beach and another on a swamp tour. (We both held a scorpion.)

The campus was only a few miles from our hotel. I toted her around in this black Nissan SUV that made it look like she had a secret service escort.

That first morning of class, we drove over to campus. We strolled the beautiful campus–it really is sweet–and checked out the Nova bookstore. We soon found her building, and…

… we sent Elizabeth to kindergarten a few weeks after her fifth birthday. She was young for her class, but she was ready for school, we thought.

She certainly was a spirited child, a characterization that would last about, well, forever.

I remember that first day of kindergarten. She was all of 35 pounds and had this oversized backpack. We walked the few blocks to school, and my wife and I didn’t know what to expect. The Riverton School schoolyard was a chaotic mix of kids laughing and eager for school and others hanging on their parents’ legs, moaning and weeping.

At one point, while my wife and I were talking to someone on the playground, we turned around and realized Elizabeth was coolly walking into the school. We followed her and found she had hung up her backpack.

Okay, so much for needing us …

… and here we were, years later, in “17th grade.” As she and I parted ways in her Nova building, she smiled and said, “I’ll see you this afternoon. Love you!” and walked toward her classroom.

I felt an ache of parental love as this self-assured, proud young woman, still with a backpack, although one more appropriately sized, strode away from me, and before I turned a trick of the atrium light almost had me believing I saw a blurred image of her as that tiny five-year-old confidently entering school on day one of kindergarten: Moving to that next big challenge, a decade-plus later.

My daughter–my daughter!

Tags: virtual children by Scott Warnock by Scott Warnock
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Eight months as empty nesters. How was it? We’ve barely had time to branch out.

Because, and this is a little hawkward, but recently I received the starling information that our goose was cooked. With Junco-ming right around the corner, my nephew is moving from Indiana to good old NJay.

He’s alighting into that empty nest. When I first heard this news, I was like, “Is this fake, oriole?” I should’ve dove for cover, but I couldn’t duck: He was robin me of this time of my life! (And I kinda wondered if my sister-in-law was pulling the old mama bird cuckoo trick on us…) I suppose I could rail to Acanthis, grouse about it all I want …

… but w-hen I thought it over, I was like, you know, who’myna to complain? After all, he’s no turkey. He’s a good kid, and I feel we’re gonna be lucky to have him. My own kids might be a little bittern, a little thrush with jealousy, but he could become number one.

So we’ve warmed up to the idea of this guy flying into our roost. He’s a smart, talon-ted kid. He often grackles me up. He likes to talk, so he’ll keep me sharp with some nice chats, and I’m sure his “fascinating” stories will keep me rapt. Believe it or not, it will be nice to have a tanager in the house again. (We will have to get used to aerie-ting out the smell of those soccer cleats again (those things can get pretty fowl!).)

I would vulture to guess that he’ll probably help my diet too beak-ause he eats like a you know what with his salads and cucumbers–it’s owl down the nuthatch. He’ll provide another regular attendee at family-friend game nights, helping passerine the Balderdash box around the table.

Well, let osprey it goes well, but, still, is it a cardinal sin to look at this a little wistfully? It seems my time of rattling around the old house warbling away will be delayed, although the wait may make the time when I do become a loony old coot all the sweeter.

I’ll echo what Joe says to Pip in Great Eggpectations: “What larks!” are ahead of us! Even if he doesn’t pay any wren, overall, I’m sure the eggperience will be, you know, eggcellent.

Tags: virtual children by Scott Warnock by Scott Warnock
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