Wait Outside
My daughter’s tuition from the previous semester hadn’t been paid, and we had no idea. No letter had reached us. It might have gone to her dad, who has control over her prepaid plan, but we found out when she tried to register for classes and couldn’t. He tried to resolve it over the phone without success, so she knew she would have to go to the school and take care of it in person.
I asked if she wanted me to come, and she said okay. We stopped for lunch first, then walked toward the school. Somewhere along the way, the plan changed. She told me she didn’t want me to come inside. Actually, she didn’t even want me walking up to the building with her. I was relegated to the park outside.
I was half sad and half proud. I was so happy that she felt confident enough to take care of this herself. There was an unpaid bill, a hold on her account, and a semester she needed to register for, and she wanted to be the one to walk in and figure it out. I also knew I could help. I’ve worked in education for a very long time, and finding the right person to untangle a school problem is familiar territory for me. But she had asked me to wait outside, and I could hear that she meant it.
So I stayed in the park and took pictures of the flowers. Eventually, I casually made my way over to the building and sat outside. Apparently, I could respect the boundary and still negotiate the distance. I didn’t go in, though. This was hers to do, even with Mama sitting a little closer than originally requested.
It’s a strange feeling to be happy about something that also makes you sad. I wanted her to feel capable. I wanted her to know she could ask questions, find the right person, and handle a problem without me beside her. But there I was, having been given exactly what I wanted for her, missing the little girl who would have needed me to come in.
Then she came out smiling. She told me she had been so nervous when she first went in that she almost cried. But she composed herself, asked for help, and found the person who handled prepaid accounts. She got it done. The hold was released, and she registered for her classes.
Hearing that she had been nervous made me even prouder. From outside, I had seen her walk into the building. Now I knew what it had taken for her to stay there and work it out. She had wanted to do it herself, and she had followed through even when it was difficult.
My baby was growing up enough not to need me for this. I was happy for her, and a little sad for me. I don’t think either feeling needed to disappear. When she came out, I was there to hear the whole story, and I was very glad I hadn’t gone inside.
Shikata ga nai is about recognizing what is beyond our control. That afternoon, I could offer to come along, and I could be there afterward. What happened inside the building belonged to her.
