Friday, October 1, 2010

Fifteen really is the big one

I don't know what it is, but lately my rear-view mirror has been providing a lot of insight.

I was driving home this afternoon and stopped at a red light. I fidgeted with my iPod for a second or two to change the song, and then went back to watching cars pass by around me while I waited for the light to change. A car pulled up behind me, so I glanced into the rear-view mirror to check out who was behind me. I don't really know why I do that, I guess just out of curiosity to see who's traveling the same path. It just so happened to be a mom and her daughter - mom in the passenger seat, and daughter behind the wheel. The daughter looked to be about 15, and the look on her mom's face confirmed it. I looked at the car and noticed it was a Honda minivan. I immediately smiled to myself.

Coming up on my 21st birthday, I thought back to this time six short years ago. I was so excited to turn 15. I could FINALLY drive a car. Granted, I couldn't drive by myself, but it was my first oh-so-miniscule glimpse of freedom, and I couldn't wait. I remember going to get my permit, waiting forever in line, and finally stepping up to fill out all of the information and get my little slip of paper that said "YES! YOU CAN DRIVE!" At least, it might as well have said that.

That first year was rocky at times. I thought I knew everything and couldn't stand it when Mom or Dad tried to correct me. I learned how to drive the minivan - the Honda minivan - and though awkward at times, I became pretty good at maneuvering a bus up and down Memorial Parkway. Then came the BIG birthday, or so I thought. I turned 16 and convinced my parents to let me skip school that morning to go get my license. I grinned as the lady behind the desk looked at my date of birth and smiled and said, "Well happy birthday, young lady."

I went to dinner that night with my parents and my sister. Mom, Annie and I came from the house to meet my dad at the restaurant after he got off of work. When we were finished, I nervously asked if I could drive one of the cars home. Reluctantly, knowing they didn't have a good reason to say no, Mom and Dad said yes and I took that big ol' minivan to the house. But here's the funny part. I was terrified. For as long as I'd spent complaining about having my parents in the car correcting my every move, something about having them there felt safer. It was as if I knew that if something bad happened, they could just jump behind the wheel, fix it, and everything would be OK. Sitting in the driver's seat alone and about to leave the restaurant, it suddenly became glaringly obvious to me that this was it; if something bad happened, it was me and the minivan to fend for ourselves. Of course, I made it home just fine and saw the look of relief on my mom's face as I pulled into the driveway.

As I looked behind me today and saw that girl and her mom, I couldn't help but wonder what she was thinking. As the light turned green and I started to pull away, I offered up a wish for that girl. I wished that she would cherish these days with her mom in the car. I wished that she would never have to go through the awful experience of a wreck. I wished that she wouldn't speed and face the embarrassment of telling her parents about her first ticket. And I wished that when her 16th birthday rolls around and she can't wait to be on her own, that she would appreciate the safety and comfort offered from her mom's presence today.

Fifteen really is the big birthday. It's the last year we truly have safety and comfort. We all grow up. We have to be big kids. We move out and have to learn how to do things all on our own. And I, for one, have never been more thankful for that safety and comfort that annoyed me so much for so long.