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Home with a Capital H

There have been a few times that my daughter made the slip up.

“When I get home, I mean back to school,” she has said on a few occasions, each time quickly correcting herself and looking at me to see my reaction. Was it ok for school to feel like home?

But this time is was I who made the slip up.

“Please call me as soon as you get home.”

Lauren was taking her car to school for the first time, doing the three hour drive by herself so I really wanted to know as soon as she got to school, or home as it’s sometimes called by mistake.

The word hung in the air. Heavy. Waiting to be corrected.

h o m e

But I let it hang, playing with the idea of doing the dance where I correct myself.

But I decided to leave it there.

I want her to feel like school is her home too. When she’s happy, I’m happy.

As I’ve explained to her after her corrections, it’s ok to have two homes, two places where she feels comfortable.

Now I like to think of our house as Home with a capital H and Skidmore as her home away from Home.

Two places where she feels safe, where she feels accepted and that is hers to call home.

Letting our children fly and watching them grow their own roots is certainly bittersweet. It tugs at my heart as I recall the precious moments over the past 18 years that seemed to have flown by in an instant. My same heart swells as I see her turning into a woman with her life ahead of her, knowing that her Home has played a starring role in making her who she is today.

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