Juneau Now Has My Heart

by Ashley

I realize it’s been a long time since the last post, and I also realize the last one was titled, “Summer in Kaltag, part 1.”  However, before I had a chance to pen down the rest of our summer, Jadyn moved off to college.  Since that event was more pressing, I’ll share that experience with you now.

Last week, I dropped off our first born at college, almost 1,000 miles away.  That, coupled with the start of a new school year, with many new dynamics, means that for the last three weeks, about 90% of my mental energy has been channeled into my emotional regulation. To say I was stressed, anxious and overwhelmed is a simplified statement.  I was going through so many waves of resistance and insecurity, that there were times I wasn’t sure how what needed to happen was going to happen. I was in the throes of readjusting to a new teaching assignment, and navigating new curriculum, still trying to get classrooms in order, and all the while, planning mine and Jadyn’s trip to Juneau.  (I’m going to dedicate a whole other post on what Philip has been doing these past few weeks…) Philip and I had decided a while back that I would be the one to take Jadyn to Juneau, since he got to go with her to the university when they went together for her senior trip. 

I was torn between dedicating enough time to get things ready for the school year, and not missing the last few days that I had with our daughter.  Ultimately, I think we struck that balance fairly well.  As they say, the work will always be there, but time with your kids won’t be. We spent that time relaxing when we could, doing some of Jadyn’s favorite things, and of course, Philip and I giving her one last crash course of parental advice. But her last day in Kaltag was last Wednesday, and although I was at work that day, trying to make sure everything was set for the two days I’d be out, my mind was mostly preoccupied with our journey, and what would happen at the end of it.  I was nervous about everything; did I get everything booked properly, and would we make everything on time; would we figure out the bus system in Juneau, and would everything be clear once we got on campus?  And of course, I imagined what it was going to be like flying back home alone, having left my daughter in a town where she didn’t know anyone, doing a lot of things for the first time on her own.  Not to mention the thought that to get to her in an emergency, it will take no less than two days.

That Wednesday afternoon, we loaded everything up in the truck, and then the family joined in for one last group hug.  Tears were already going, and it struck me pretty hard that this was the last time we would all be together for a while.  We then drove to the air strip and waited for the plane.  Everything felt so surreal, like this was just another school trip that she’d be coming back from in a few days.  And the reality is, it’s only a few months at a time.  But that’s not really the issue.  With this new chapter beginning, it means the chapter of her childhood is officially ending.  So even when she returns home for holiday breaks, it won’t be the same.   She’s now an adult, who will have had a taste of the independence that comes with that title, and her carefree teenage days are over.  (Although I’m sure she’d argue they were never carefree for her.)

The plane came in and while the plane was being loaded, Jadyn gave her final hugs to Philip and her siblings.  I could tell that it was hard to process for everyone.  We’ve been such a tight knit family for so long, that the prospect of one of us leaving felt foreign.  Then, Jadyn and I boarded the puddle jumper, and buckled in for what we were told was going to be a bumpy flight.  Indeed, it was, with it feeling more like a roller coaster than a flight.  There were times where the plane would oscillate from side to side, and other times where your stomach would feel like it was dropping, as the plane would abruptly shift its altitude.  An auspicious beginning, I thought, to our milestone journey.

We landed in Fairbanks, with several of the passengers on the verge of kissing the ground, and then waited for the hotel shuttle at Wright’s.  About an hour later, thanks to a miscommunication with the hotel desk clerk, we made our way to Pike’s Waterfront Lodge.  The hotel is nice, with a lot of things you can do, but of course, our favorite amenity is the free ice cream they serve in the evenings during the summer.  After we got checked in, since the pizza we ordered was going to take an hour, we decided to have our dessert first.  They also have a lot of board games you can play, so Jadyn and I kicked it old school, and played the original version of Candyland.  She had picked the game, but it hit me pretty hard, as we were drawing those colored square cards, how often I used to play this game with her when she was little.  It began a string of dual visions that would continue the entire weekend.  By dual vision, I mean that I would instantaneously see Jadyn as she is right now, but the memory of her as a younger version of herself would also surface at the same time.  Playing our game, I could hear her giggling, as she used to when she was small, and I remembered her small pudgy fingers, carefully flipping over the cards.  I could see her meticulously counting the number of spaces as she moved her piece, sticking her tongue out in concentration. I could remember her sheer delight from head to toe, when she would beat me to the finish line.  And now…this woman sitting across from me is still able to extract the same delight in this simple game, but the commentary has grown more complex.  I was so glad we had this moment together, enjoying the present, and allowing me to relive the past.  I am so thankful that I was present enough in my kids’ younger years, that I have these memories to replay, adding so much more depth to the changes that are to come. 

The next morning, we headed to the Fairbanks International Airport and began the oh-so-fun process of checking bags and going through security.  It has become a regular occurrence that anytime our family flies, something gets confiscated, or someone gets searched.  In packing for this trip, Jadyn had focused heavily on what she could fit in her totes, and made sure that her carry-on bag didn’t have any prohibited items.  (She still hasn’t fully recovered from the confiscation of her favorite lotion from Bath and Body Works, when we first arrived in Alaska.) However, what she forgot to account for was the fact that she would be carrying on her suitcase as well.  As we were going through the screening line, the agent on the end of the line asked her if she had any prohibited items in her suitcase.  There was a lot of surrounding noise, as well as a large plastic divider between Jadyn and the agent, so she misheard him, and answered, “Yes.”  He was immediately amused, and could tell that she had misheard him, so he walked past the partition, and then asked her again.  Showing some embarrassment, she quickly replied, “Oh, no…I’m sorry!”  He smiled, but then proceeded to examine the contents of the suitcase, because obviously, something had been flagged on the x-ray.  As we were still putting our shoes on and gathering our other items, he lifted out two full-size bottles of shampoo and conditioner, both well past the fluid oz. limit.  He had one eyebrow raised, and the hint of a smirk in the corner of his mouth.  Jadyn looked at him, mortified.  “I completely forgot about those!” she said, as she admitted she had meant to shift them to her checked totes.  We were still laughing that off, when the agent then lifted out two pocketknives, with an even higher-raised eyebrow, and full-blown smile.  At that point, Jadyn’s jaw dropped, and she put her hand to her forehead.  She later told me, she thought for sure that she was getting arrested.  Fortunately, the agent had a good sense of humor, as I’m sure he could tell he was dealing with innocent, preoccupied amateurs.  We left the items, collected the remainder of our things, and then laughed about it for the next half hour over coffee.

Our flight to Anchorage was much smoother than the puddle jumper, and our layover wasn’t very long.  We walked back and forth debating on getting something to eat, but neither of us had much of an appetite.  The nerves were starting to ramp up, as we got closer to the final destination.  There were moments where one or both of us would tear up, but we both were trying to keep it under the radar.

We landed in Juneau, at what is probably the smallest airport I’ve ever seen and waited for the university shuttle to pick us up.  At this point, we were a little concerned that we didn’t see what appeared to be any other students, and the shuttle was notably late.  It finally arrived, about 30 minutes after the initial appointment, and they didn’t account for the fact that parents would be in tow as well.  They ended up making it work, but it didn’t help the already anxious nerves.  It also didn’t help that once we arrived on campus, the shuttle dropped us off at the bottom of the hill, because of construction happening by Jadyn’s dorm.  So, Jadyn and I ended up carrying three large totes and a suitcase up the hill, in a drizzling rain, having to make two trips total.  Both of us were beginning to wonder about what other hiccups lay ahead.

Jadyn got checked in, and then her RA took us up to her room, a suite-style situation, where the two bedrooms are connected by a common kitchenette and a bathroom.  Jadyn is actually sharing her suite with the RA, so that turned out to be a fortunate perk.  But when we got to her room, we discovered that she currently does not have a roommate.  For now, she has the room to herself, which is the first time she’s had her own room since she was two years old. That lifted her spirits a bit.  The room was so much bigger than we imagined, and the views are breathtaking.  She literally gets to look out into a forest, from a window view that looks more like a large screen tv.  She also has the sounds of the forest, complete with rain falling on the leaves, when she cracks open the window.  She has a built-in ambience that a lot of people pay for.  She was very pleased.

Common area

The room

Happy with the view

Window view #1

Hunger Games Forest view #2

We went to work right away, setting up her space, and arranging her things.  We took note of things she still needed, and of course, did the rental check for any damages.  Once we had everything unpacked, she looked around and took a deep breath of satisfaction.  Some of the tension had been relieved.  I was glad the dorm didn’t come across as something sterile. It had a warm look to it and seemed to be a place into which she’ll be able to easily settle.

With move-in completed, we set off to get her ID card, her bus pass, and to take a general look around the campus.  Everything she needs is literally two minutes from her dorm.  All her classes are in the same building as the library, which is stunning, and the dining hall is right across from there, with a small grocery section inside.  A short little hike around the backside of her hall takes her right to Auke Lake, complete with sitting chairs and docks.  Even the walk from her dorm to the bus stop is a nature trail, which also takes you by a bridge view of the lake.  I don’t think it will be hard for her to decompress there, should classes or life ever get too stressful.

Home away from home

Campus mascot

Walk to the bus

Bridge view of Auke Lake

We decided to explore the bus system and managed to take one to my hotel.  After checking in, looking at the map, I saw that Fred Meyer, the main grocery store, was about a half hour walk from the hotel.  I thought it might be fun to walk and see some of the town, while also saving money on bus fare.  About 15 minutes into the walk, we decided that was a bad idea.  It started to rain, it was cold, and our “little” walk, had us walking along the highway, and having to cross at a very busy intersection.  By the time we got inside the store, we were chilled to the bone, and quite tired.  We spent the next two hours picking out essentials for class, the dorm, and food to get her through the weekend.  It was endearing, watching her pay such close attention to ingredients and prices, trying to pick foods that would be fulfilling, but not break the bank.  She mentioned how different it felt, knowing that this responsibility would now be falling to her, rather than Philip and me.  I, of course, kept fighting the urge to buy anything and everything, to ensure her comfort, and instead, tried to hang back as much as possible, and let her piece it together.  Although, I did make sure she had a mug and hot chocolate mix, to help her through the next few days, that I knew would be some of her loneliest nights.

Survival food choices

By the time we got done shopping, we were really hungry, so we bought a couple of sandwiches, and decided to eat in the cart lobby area, while we waited for the bus.  We laughed about how we probably looked like we were homeless, sitting on the floor, eating sandwiches, still a little bedraggled from our walk.  We got several glances from people as they walked by, one of which was from an old man who I think was seriously considering handing us some money.  After we ate, we rebagged our purchases so we could carry them all between the two of us, and then headed for the bus stop.  Riding the bus was definitely the better way to go, but of course, as soon as I mentioned that to Jadyn, some interesting characters boarded the bus.  First, two men, who apparently were friends, began talking about their parole, and their rehab, and how they were thankful about the reduction of their bail.  One of them kept going on with his justification about how it was his girlfriend’s fault that she got hurt by him.  I was looking at Jadyn, who was sitting right next to this duo, and she was hugging her groceries tightly, doing her best not to make eye contact with them or me.  Then, as they were still talking about their domestic violence issues, a sickly woman boarded the bus and sat right next to Jadyn, on the other side.  Her nose was red, and she continually coughed or sneezed, into a tissue she held in her hand.  At that point, I was doing my best not to make eye contact with Jadyn because I knew if we did, one of us would lose it.  We finally made it to our stop and got off.  It prompted another round of parenting advice about how if she’s going to be riding the bus, it should never be at night.

After dropping off her wares in the room, I hugged Jadyn goodnight, so that I could catch the next bus back to the hotel.   As I left the dorm, the tears finally let loose, and all the emotional thoughts I had held at bay ran furiously through my mind.  There wouldn’t be any more nightly hugs before bed, or a “See you in the morning.”  All the years of bedtime routines…ended.  I also thought of her spending her first night alone, sad that she might experience true loneliness for the first time.  I made it to the bus stop, bleary eyed and tired, only to realize that the bus had already come and went, early.  There wouldn’t be another bus that evening.  I decided I didn’t want to spend money on a cab or Uber and chose to walk to the hotel instead.  GPS told me it would take an hour, but I managed to do it in 40 minutes.  Not that walking alone, in the dark, in an unfamiliar city is a good idea, but it was beautiful.  Granted, it rained the entire time, and it was even colder than our grocery store adventure.  My feet were wet and tired, but the walk allowed me more time to think and get a hold of myself.  I was rather grateful to get to my room, and after I dried off, got ready for bed, and talked with Philip for a while, I thought I’d begin writing about this experience.

I started this post that night, while Jadyn was spending her first night alone in her dorm room, and I was once again crying, alone in a hotel room.   But exhaustion finally hit, and I decided to try to sleep instead.  I had an early morning for a breakfast orientation, and I didn’t want to oversleep.  So, I saved what I had and went to bed.

The next morning, I got up early, got ready, and headed to the bus stop, about 10 minutes from the hotel.  The bus was on time, and I was at Jadyn’s dorm, about 30 minutes early.  I wanted us to have these last few minutes together, knowing the time was coming soon, when we would part ways.  We spent that time walking a bit more around campus and talking about last minute things.  Inside, I kept desperately hoping for time to slow down, hoping to extend this moment as long as possible.  But of course, time doesn’t bend to our will, and soon enough, we found ourselves inside the dining hall, getting signed in.  They had assigned students to small groups, in hopes that random people would begin acquainting themselves with each other.  But even the group leader, a junior, seemed socially awkward.  Most people either talked to others they already knew or tuned out on their phones.  Jadyn and I had fun observing the room and talking with each other about our observations.  After eating some breakfast, it seemed that nothing else was really happening until the next event at 9:00, so we went over to the grocery section, where we saw some UAS merchandise.  I ended up buying both Jadyn and I shirts and sweatshirts, because they were all on clearance, and were actually our size. 

We dropped off her stuff in her room, and headed back down so she could make it to the next event.  This was my cue to leave.  My stomach was in knots, my heart was pounding, and my legs were weak.  I couldn’t believe that this moment had finally arrived.  Ever since her birth, I knew this day would come, that it had to come, and yet…now that it was here, I wasn’t sure how I was going to leave her.  I gave her my tearful parting words, telling her how incredibly proud I was of her for everything she’s already accomplished, and for how brave she was in taking this next step.  I told her we were always a phone call away.  I reminded her to have fun, since this is her adventure.  Then, I hugged her tightly and told her I loved her.  For a brief second, the image of my mom leaving me at college flashed through my mind.  I had always known it was hard for her, but now that I was experiencing this side of it, I understood her tears so much more.  Jadyn tearfully said it was just for a few months, said she loved me, and then turned and walked away, toward the crowd. 

I stood there, watching her walk away, managing to take a picture of it, and burning it into my memory. Her first walk of adult independence.  My little girl, now a woman, finding her own journey.  I was so proud I could burst, and yet so sad, I thought I might crumble...bittersweet opposing forces.  I turned and walked away, once again down the path to the bus, crying…again.  This time, it felt like my soul was torn.  I kept asking myself if the magnitude of what I was feeling was normal.  I’m certainly not the first parent who’s been through this, and this is a natural progression of parenting, so why was it so intense?  I began to analyze just what it was that I was most upset about.  I realized that not once in all of this, was I worried about her well-being.  Not really.  Of course, I had advised about the dangers of taking drinks from strangers or being out late. I had reminded her about not putting herself in situations that increase the odds of something bad happening to her.  But I know that she’s resilient, intelligent, and very capable.  She’s always managed herself well.  No, what I was most upset about was simply the fact that I’m going to miss her presence, and that her leaving is just the first of four departures.  The house is going to feel a little emptier without her there, and it will become progressively so, as the other three also leave the nest.  I have always been quite fond of our children, and I love the people they are growing up to be.  I love our family of six, and our time together has been my most precious commodity.  Together, we have achieved an ideal of family that in my youth, I never thought was possible. I will miss the phase that has been the last 18 years of my life.  I know the next one holds joys of its own, but it doesn’t mean letting go of this one is any easier.

The worst of it hit in the hour before takeoff.  Up to that point, I was still in the same city as her.  But now, I was about to leave.  As far apart as our locations are, and the amount of travel time between us, she might as well be another country away.  Once again, that maternal instinct flared up, screaming at me that I couldn’t leave her behind.  But then, I reflected. I wasn’t leaving her behind.  She’s going on up ahead.  It’s just a different path than mine.  For that, I am thankful.  She is brave enough to choose one that is different from her parents, a direction that she has chosen for herself.  She’s already further ahead than I was at her age.

Yet still, I will always remember the very first moment of holding her in my arms and wrapping my head around the fact that I was now responsible for this tiny little life.  I will always remember the toddler, who was so afraid of taking that first step, who has now so bravely taken her first into adulthood.  I’ll always remember the preschooler who loved to twirl around in princess dresses, and pick wildflower bouquets; the little girl who always had her nose in a book and loved to write her Momma notes.  I will always see her in all these different stages, as well as the person she is in the present.  I am so thankful that I am her mother, and that I had the privilege of raising her.  She taught me probably far more than I taught her, and because of her, I myself, have continued that brave journey into adulthood.  Although my heart feels broken right now, I know in fact, it’s just growing pains.  We will all learn how to adapt and grow in this next chapter, and I am looking forward to what it will unveil.  I am hopeful for the journey that Jadyn is now taking.

“Parents rarely let go of their children, so children let go of them. They move on. They move away. The moments that used to define them — a mother’s approval, a father’s nod — are covered by moments of their own accomplishments. It is not until much later, as the skin sags and the heart weakens, that children understand; their stories, and all their accomplishments, sit atop the stories of their mothers and fathers, stones upon stones, beneath the waters of their lives.” — Mitch Albom, The Five People You Meet in Heaven