Three stories for You

So, you all know that we dropped Melinda off at the MTC on Wednesday.

This is how I pictured it:

That morning we would spend the time finishing packing, running errands and enjoying our last moments together. I would be offering sage advice and wisdom. Melinda would be telling me how great I am and how much she was going to miss me as a mom and friend.

When we dropped her off at the MTC, I would be calm and loving, embracing her gently and expressing my love and pride. I would dab my eyes against the light welling of tears as I send my daughter on her first life adventure.

I saw myself as an LDS Grace Kelly….

This is what I was afraid would happen:

As we get ready to go, Melinda informs me she’s not going after all.

Or

We are getting ready to go and Melinda tells me she hates my guts and always has.

or

We wake up and find a note from Melinda saying she has run away with a secret boyfriend.

OR

All goes fine with Melinda, and we arrive at the MTC where I suddenly lose my mind and as the Elders are leading my daughter away, I leap from the van and go charging down the sidewalk like a Denver Bronco Linesman, shoving bystanders out of my way and screaming:

GIVE MY DAUGHTER BACK!!!!

When I reach her, I toss her over my shoulder, and race back to the van, hollering,

YOU’LL NEVER TAKE HER AWAY FROM ME! NEVER! SHE’S MINE! MINE! MINE!

When I reach the van, Blair would open the door and I’ll huck her in, jump in the van and we hit the gas. At home, we lock her in her room til she’s 40.

What really happened:

That morning, we ran a few errands and got a Jamba Juice.

Then, we went home and stared at each other for a few hours.

At noon, we couldn’t take it anymore. We took a few pics, got in the van and went for a ride. We drove up past the Provo Temple, where we saw missionaries and their families taking pictures.

Finally, it was time to go. We drove up to what is probably my least favorite building in Provo. I started to cry.

We got out of the van. I cried more. I hugged Melinda who was also crying. Elders (who looked EXTREMELY young, by the way) led her and her luggage away. Blair helped me into the van. I cried more. Well, I think the word ‘sobbed’ might be appropriate here.

Blair hit the gas and we went out to lunch where they serve lovely carbohydrate rich comfort food, during which lunch the waterfall of tears subsided into a light leaking.

Today, no tears at all!

I’m sure she’s fine, and I’m fine, and we’re all fine. Just fine.

Fine:)