Fail Safe

She entered the family room brimming with an almighty joy.

The news had finally arrived: The last three colleges she had been waiting on - the ones with acceptance rates in the single digits – let her know, in no uncertain terms, that they were, indeed, beyond her reach.

"Their loss," she sang as she twirled in front of the television, blocking my view.

This sounds like bad news. Should I be worried? Should I try to console her?

Why is she dancing? 

She twirled around until I found the remote control (and a really old cheese stick) in between the cushions of the couch. With Wayne Brady frozen on the screen, I could finally give her my full attention.

"What's going on. Are you alright?"

My mind raced. This is probably my fault. Me ...blank staring my way through the FAFSA and THE CSS and all the other initialed portals I could barely navigate. How many times did I upload the same files? How long did I wait on hold, trying to speak to a human who could tell me where I had gone wrong?

There is no doubt in my mind that I dotted a few “T”s and crossed many “I”s.

"I'm fine! The pieces of my life are finally falling into place. I am not just going to college, I am going into GLOBAL studies!"

The sadness of the college rejection news had been offset by the simultaneous and more exciting announcement that she'd been selected to study in a foreign country during her freshman year.

"I'd spend the fall in Boston and then in the spring I'd study in London ... or Greece!"

I still felt like a deer in headlights.

I didn't want to look disappointed. I didn't want to admit that the whole thing felt strange: She had professed her love for Boston, managed to get accepted to the college of her heart's desire there, and now she was planning to leave it all and study ... where? She didn't seem to know.

"This seems ... a little unusual."

Though I'm not sure why it struck me as such. My little private college had a program called "semester abroad," which the price of tuition and a little bit of airfare, I too might have rubbed elbows, or at least mixed paint brushes, with a few of my student counterparts in France.

But I didn't know anyone who was going and I didn't want to be alone.

My daughter has never allowed fear to hold her back.

During her kindergarten orientation, she had personally interviewed the teachers and had essentially filled out the registration forms herself. In triplicate. I just sat beside her and fidgeted with safety scissors.

It occurred to me then … as it does now … that it wasn't bravery that set her apart from me … it was confidence. It was also, perhaps, a necessity.

“Don't worry. … I'm not blaming you for those rejection letters … But I'm going to file my own taxes this year … just in case.”