Off you go

200px-My_antonia

I have been one of those types who bounds along in life like a terrier in high grass.

I see myself as young and vital until I look in the mirror and recognize that many years have passed since I was a girl.

If lucky, I might have 25 years left.

This thought kills me.

I surround myself with youth who make me think, make me regret, make me laugh, make me vital.

Yesterday, I planned a mini-party for my 4 student employees who are graduating from high school tonight.

We had carrot cake, ice cream, and milk.

My secretary and my director Joyce joined the party.

Dipti, Priyanka, and Christine opened their gifts.

Marvelous young women they are: Dipti headed to UC San Diego, Priyanka to Drexel’s MBA/Medical program, and Christine to USC’s Marshall School of Business.

Impromptu, I acknowledged each young and incredible face for the contributions in work and spirit to the business.

They are headed out to university with all of their dreams and fears.

I want to go with them.

The wiser and bigger Cheri wouldn’t be so lugubrious.

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About Cheri

Writer, artist, cable television host, grandmother to four!
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15 Responses to Off you go

  1. Douglas says:

    “If lucky, I might have 25 years left.”

    The type of luck would depend upon the experiences of those years, I would think. Face them the way you see your young students face university and the odds are great that the luck will be good. And may stretch beyond that measly 25.

  2. Cheri says:

    Here! Here! I needed that!

  3. Douglas says:

    “Here! Here! “???

    I am crestfallen. Were you calling your dog? Though, thinking about it, maybe when something is written, location is more important than audibility.

    (secretly, I am pleased since I rarely had opportunity to correct a teacher)

  4. Cheri says:

    I am far from perfect ( as regular readers have observed ).

    Here! Here! was my attempt at a toast to your splendid idea.

  5. Douglas says:

    I was being facetious. I keep forgetting no one can see the lopsided grin on my face or hear the mirth that underlies my words in the comments (or in my blog). Blast these spellcheckers! When will they tie word to context?

  6. andreaskluth says:

    Being somewhat schooled in House-of-Commons and other Brittanic eccentricities, I need to point out that it is “Hear, Hear” (for Hear Ye, Hear Him)

    Utterly beside the point, of course.

  7. Cheri says:

    Thanks Douglas and Andreas. Now that I feel better, reading this comment thread is fun.

    I must have been calling that terrier in the high grass.

    (Nothing like cleaning my decks at work to bring me back to my senses.)

  8. Mr. Crotchety says:

    MBA/Medical Program? I’m sure that’s a great thing, but isn’t it a shame?

  9. Douglas says:

    Andreas, I did not know that about “hear, hear”. I am reading a book by David Crystal (“By Hook or by Crook”). Interesting stuff, language.

    Cheri, I am always upset when I think I have insulted someone or hurt their feelings in someway through my clumsiness with language. We do not talk only with words, expressions are important and we cannot do that with the written word. I am glad all is forgiven… it is, isn’t it? 🙂

  10. Ellen says:

    Gee…this was fun!
    I learned (finally) that it is hear hear and not here here (totally unexpected!)
    Best to get yourself back into a mindfulness place or you’ll be looking at a pity party; somehow I don’t see you as the type.
    25 years at best….hummm, I’d say keep making the best of them. You always have such rich experiences to share, I so enjoy them even if they are melancholy at times.

  11. Cheri says:

    Mr. C: The docs are going to have to be businessmen in the next 8 years, don’t you think?

    Douglas: I wasn’t irritated at all. Sometimes, as Andreas has also experienced in his comment thread, I am too literal. 😉 and gullible. Yeechhhh!

    Ellen: Mindfulness is a better place to be; you are correct. Well, if only for a morning, it was an itty bitty pity party

  12. Heather says:

    Cheri, I didn’t hear even a teensy weensy bit of pity party happening here! I am 41 and feel the same wistfulness and — OK, envy — when I watch a student leave home to find her way in the world. I think what we’re feeling (if we allow ourselves to actually feel it rather than writing it off as a pity party) is ourselves coming to terms with who we are and the choices we’ve made. Even if the majority of those choices have been good and right, we know that life just doesn’t look as shiny through our eyes as it does through theirs. I wouldn’t actually trade the visual patina for anything, but still sometimes I do watch and think, “wouldn’t that be fun…?”

  13. Cheri says:

    Thanks Heather.

    Your words capture exactly how I felt that day. 🙂

  14. Christopher says:

    “,,,,,,,If lucky, I might have 25 years left……..”

    It being now 6 years on, your years left have dwindled to a mere 19. The grave beckons more insistently…………

    • Cheri says:

      I remember writing that post and a reader calling it a pity party. She missed the point…so much for emotional intelligence. I was then (and still at times today) missing my youth and at least putting words to what many of us feel, especially women. Oh, I know, I am grateful for my many many blessings, truly, but I still miss those days when I turned men’s heads. Am I immature? a spiritual neophyte? I really don’t think that men understand at all.

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