Cara passed her driver’s test yesterday. I’m proud of her. She practiced all summer. Did a good job. Maintained the speed limit. Left a lot of distance between her and the car in front of her. Used good judgment.
When we got home, predictably enough, she wanted the keys. Needed to go to the supermarket. Wanted to take the neighbor girl to the park. Had to go to the video store. Perfectly legitimate reasons. So why was I surprised to feel a clutch of fear in my throat? All summer she ran such errands without incident, though we me sitting shotgun. Now, with her having been ratified by the State of New York, I feel the grip of alarm. It’s nonsensical. If anything, were she to have an accident, I’d be safer. Of course, that’s not the point.
Ginny and I knew what we were doing. We looked forward to the liberty that would be ours when we could retire our joint chauffeur’s cap. But now the moment is here, and I don’t feel so free. We have given our girl to the world, and we know what a careless and indifferent place the world can be.