Meredith fought her whole childhood for independence, and I struggled my whole parenthood learning to let go. And then she comes back to visit.

This is the kid who spent her last year or so at home distancing herself from her parents. Striving for that independence. The first day home she expects her parent’s car, her parent’s insurance and financial responsibility to drive that car, her parent’s money, her parent’s credit card, her parent’s room and board.

And what happened to that independence? Well, her view is pretty unilateral. No restrictions on what she does, whom she does it with, and when she does it.

I can’t figure out what clock she’s going by. She’s out the door just about the first thing in the morning. She continues going until 2:00 or 3:00 in the morning. She claims she is keeping her body on Rocky Mountain Time (she goes to school in Colorado Springs). What makes matters worse is that her friends are on the same schedule. They don’t think a thing about calling at 6:00 a.m., 6:00 p.m. or 2:00 a.m.

And I try not to be like my mother. But its tough when someone calls for her at 2:00 a.m. and you discover that’s she’s not home yet. I’m not telling her, but yeah, I lie there awake until she tip toes in.

At the Air Force Academy she has to keep her room clean to pass a white glove test and her bed made with corners square to pass a coin test. But at home! She leaves a trail through the house kind of like a hurricane passing through a city. Stuff thrown everywhere in her path. And her room . . . "pig sty" would be a more appropriate description. You can’t even get into it to do a glove test or flip a coin, assuming you could find either in the mess.

Then there are relationships with former boy friends. Or at least who I thought were former. Suddenly, at least one’s back around. Just as suddenly he’s apparently gone. She still has the emotional swings of a teenage girl, and although I had hoped she would take these away and leave them at college, we certainly had them at home during her visit!

I now know what Shakespeare meant when he wrote that "parting is such sweet sorrow." I hated to see her go, but I’m glad to have her gone!