She reaches for me and we’re quiet together for a long time, the moments slipping by, measured by our breathing.

“I don’t know what to say,” she whispers.

“You don’t have to say anything.” There are some things that simply can’t be made better, not by talking or weeping or praying or pretending they didn’t happen. Yet her reaction is exactly as I’d hoped it would be—compassionate without being pitying or obsessive.

“I wish…” Her voice trails off, but I understand exactly what she’s saying.

“So do I.”

More quiet moments. We turn on the Magic Fingers again to shake us out of the somber mood. “You’re all the kid I need,” I tell her. She’s heard that from me before. Now she understands the hidden meaning behind the words.

“Well, I hope you know, I’m the one losing my audience,” Molly insists. “When I’m away at college, who will I perform for?”

This surprises me. I know there are things she worries about, being so far from home in a strange world where no one knows her. Still, I thought her eagerness to go out and find her life had banished all her fears. Now I realize she’s well aware of what she’s leaving behind. And it’s not just Travis Spellman. From her first smile to her last day of high school, and all the lost teeth, soccer trophies, piano recitals and Brownie badges in between, I’ve been there for her, cheering her on.

“I’ll still be your number-one fan,” I assure her.

“Sure, but it won’t be the same.” Then she smiles and bounces up off the bed.

I sit up and link my arms around my drawn-up knees. “You seem pretty okay with that.”

“It’s hard work, being your daughter.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

Now it’s her turn to hesitate. “Right. Let’s go check out the game room. I think I saw a ping-pong table.”

* * *

Late at night, long after our dinner of iceberg lettuce salads and oyster crackers, Molly steals away to sit on the stoop in front of the motel room and call Travis on her cell phone. Although college beckons like a mysterious garden of rare delights, she has formed a deep bond with this boy, with his funny grin and Adam’s apple, his appealing combination of cluelessness and charm.

A hometown boy at heart, he is causing her to have second thoughts about going to school so far away. For that, I could throttle him. At the same time, I feel an unexpected beat of empathy. I, too, would love to keep her close.

On their final night at home, Molly and Travis went out with a group of their friends, some college bound, others already immersed in jobs and responsibilities. They stayed out late, visiting all the places they knew they’d miss after dispersing like seeds to the wind. There were stops at the rusty-screened drive-in movie theater, the empty stadium, the all-night diner, the parking lot at the spillway below the lake. I don’t doubt there were other stops as well, which were not revealed to me.