25
Rebecca
Sept. 9, 3:47 p.m. Jack, John, and I leave Amy at NSD. Each mile we drive west takes me further from her. At 6:22 p.m. we’re home. Amy is 152.6 miles away from me.
Sept 10–20. I functioned in a stupor, either numb or full of gutwrenching pain waiting for the first two week to pass so I could bring Amy home for the weekend.
Sept. 21, 3:30 p.m. I peeked through the window of the Prep 1 class and saw Amy. My pain of missing her is replaced by smothering her with hugs and kisses. Fifteen minutes later we’re driving toward home.
Sept. 23, 3:30 p.m. John and I returned Amy to NSD. Neither Amy nor I cried. I wonder if she cries after I’m gone. Jack stayed home to work on the grocery ad.
Sept. 28, 3:50 p.m. Arrived late at NSD due to traffic. I met Amy in the dorm, grabbed her suitcase, and drove home. Arriving at 7:00 p.m. Supper was rushed.
Sept. 30, 3:15 p.m. Returned Amy to NSD. She cried. I waited until I was in the car to cry. Separation is not getting easier.
October. A repeat of September. I drive to Omaha every Friday afternoon and back again on Sunday.
November. More of the same. Thanksgiving? I guess we went to Esther’s as usual.
Amy’s fifth birthday party in her Prep 1 class, her first birthday celebrated away from home. From left to right, Cynthia Smith, Kyle Miers, a class aid, Clyde Brack, Mrs. Hosfelt, Amy Willman, and Clara Perales.
Dec. 19. I brought Amy home for Christmas. She’ll be with us for seventeen days! Did we celebrate Christmas? I don’t remember. I’m sure we did.
Jan. 6. Taking Amy back to school was difficult after she was home for two weeks. Gut wrenching, like last September. How will I endure five more months of this?
Jan. 23. Wednesday. Today was Amy’s fifth birthday. She’s in Omaha. I’m in Grand Island. The roads are icy. I can’t see my baby on her birthday. Did she have a party? I miss her.
Jan. 24. Per Frontier Airline regulations, Amy may now fly unaccompanied. I bought a handful of one-way airplane tickets today. NSD staff will take her to the airport on Friday, but will not pick her up on Sunday, so I still have to drive to Omaha on Sunday, but one three-hundred mile round trip every weekend is much better than two
Jan. 25, 4:20 p.m. Amy arrived at the Grand Island airport on her first flight home alone. I give her a book titled, “My Book About Me.” The pages have places for the child to fill in blanks or check boxes about their life. On page 4, “How I Go to School,” Amy checks off the box by a car and an airplane. I smile.
May 20. The school year is almost over; it’s been a blur of vague, isolated memories. I have functioned on autopilot for nine months. Today I told Jack: “In two weeks Amy will be home for the summer. I never thought I’d live this long.” These words are my most vivid memory of the last nine months. Since September my life has been an endless rerun of taking Amy to school on Sunday and waiting for Friday when I could bring her home.
Kathy had Amy’s blue trunk packed. At 1:15 p.m. John, Amy, and I left NSD for home. No more driving to Omaha for three months. Amy is home for the summer. Hurrah! We are a family again.