A different kind of college drop-off

Saying goodbye never gets easier, even when you've done it a dozen times.

Fall is almost upon us. Jugs of apple cider and pumpkins greet us at the grocery store. Our favorite teams are back on the gridiron. There’s a change in the air, even if temperatures still hover in the 90s. A time for new beginnings, fall is also synonymous with college drop-offs.

If you’ve been through this, then you know what this ultimate yin and yang feels like. The Chinese philosophers who coined the term for opposite but connected forces probably weren’t referring to that eponymous moment every parent anticipates, but it’s the only way I can aptly describe what last Saturday felt like.

From the moment our little ones are placed in our arms, everything we do is in anticipation of this moment. Without warning, it arrives like an alarm clock screaming, “Get up now! It’s time.” Like toddlers begging for one more push on the swing, we wish for more time. Unfortunately, we can’t throw the alarm clock across the room and hide under the covers.

The time is now.

---

We’ve done this 12 times before, but this idea of “launching,” a newish euphemism for sending those you love into the next phase of life, leaves our hearts aching.

---

Our most recent charge to enter university is Gigi. Her smile and beautiful brown eyes captivated us the moment we saw her. She immediately nestled her tiny face into the crook of Rick's neck, anointing him with sweet kisses. A true Daddy’s girl, she hooked us from day 1.

Gigi was the dream baby first-time parents wish for. She slept through the night, rarely fussed, and was a quick study. We could’ve sprained our shoulders from patting our backs for a job well-done. But we knew better and made sure to imbibe in regular doses of humility, doled out by Gigi. She kept our egos in check by reminding us that for intellectual and physical growth to occur, taking one step forward means you must take two steps back. It wasn’t easy all the time, but raising her sure was fun.

Gigi excelled at most everything she tackled. Watching her sleep at night, puppy paws fluttering in dreamland, we pondered whether she would pursue a life of service or adventure. Would she move to Minnesota, South Carolina, Georgia, or Arkansas, as the others before her had? Or might she stick close to home as she nurtured a new generation as a full-time mother?

Her future is now, and like dinner guests who arrive early, we don't feel prepared. Our parents were right. It always goes too fast. We should've listened to Kenny Chesney. He warned us not to blink, but we did. The sadness is eventually replaced by pride in knowing the privilege it is to play a small part in impacting someone’s destiny.

A sense of gratitude for the experience leads to reminiscences of our time together. It’s a salve for our souls. We treasure the milestones that came before, like her first flight to Austin, Texas, when she didn't budge during turbulence. Shopping pal, dinner date, or office mate, Gigi was always a go-with-the-flow gal.

"She's just so much fun," others would say. 

I swam competitively off and on growing up, so I was delighted when Gigi took a keen interest in water sports. When I needed pool time, I'd ask my mom to drive me to my grandparents' house, where I spent hours in their pool making up synchronized swimming routines. I was 12 years old, and apparently a budding choreographer. 

I loved swimming so much that on family road trips, I scoured AAA guidebooks looking for hotels with pools. I never told my dad about the less-expensive ones with no pools. This summer, we spent most Sundays by the pool, laughing as Gigi jumped to her raft, catapulted into the water, grabbed her Jolly ball, then swam to the side. This scene played on repeat. I suspect our water girl has already found the campus pool – and recruited her friends to join the fun. 

It's natural to wonder what she's doing all day, and whether she thinks of us. We don't ask out loud. We know she’s busy acclimating to dorm life, making friends, adapting to a new schedule, and working hard.

---

Each night, I pray she finds success no matter her path. The seeds planted that first day she clung to us as we loaded her into the car keep our connection rooted. Our nest is emptier, but our hearts remain full.

---

When we said goodbye to Gigi, we hugged her hard, then harder, just one more time, before telling her to be good and do good. Proudly, we watched her walk toward her future, tail wagging in circles, never looking back.

Lucky #13 is what everyone keeps telling us, but we don’t yet know Gigi’s destiny. Raising puppies for Southeastern Guide Dogs is a lot like raising children. Sometimes they come home, like our black Labradors Jake and Christie, whose minor medical issues earned them a permanent spot in our family.

No matter their chosen path, we love them all, and they return that affection tenfold. The indelible paw prints left on our hearts are recognition that we did our jobs. We provided a safe, loving, and nurturing home for this future guide or service dog to learn and grow.  

There’s no doubt sweet Gigi is already sharing her love with everyone on campus. We know we’re not on her mind, and that’s okay. We compare saying goodbye to these pups like bringing our own children to college. Similar but differerent, for Gigi is someone’s hope. She will change someone’s life for the better.

I'm reminded of the mantra my husband and I tell others when asked how we give them back.

We may love these dogs, but someone needs them more than we do.