“If you go away and screw up,” I blurt out, “how will I help you fix it?” I am instantly horrified. What a stupid thing to say. An apology rushes up through me. It came out all wrong. I shouldn’t have said that.

Before I can babble out I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, Molly bursts out laughing. “News flash, Mom. It’s not your job to fix it.”

I laugh with her, but I can’t help the next thought that pops into my head: Then what is my job?

* * *

We spend longer than we intended at the roadside park. It’s so pretty and the air feels so good. When the breeze shifts just so, I can sense the forward march of the season, and I can see it in the crowns of the distant trees in the high elevations, which are starting to turn.

Molly seems preoccupied. I wonder if she’s thinking about what lies ahead—or what she left behind. Her phone calls and text messaging with Travis have decreased in frequency, which I take to be a good sign. She is driving while I keep doggedly working on the quilt, and she is fixated on the posted distance to the city. “Only forty more miles,” she says. “Hard to believe we’re finally that close.”

My needle slides through the fabric, paying homage to a swatch of old flannel from Dan’s pajamas, something she probably doesn’t even remember. But I do and suddenly I miss the feel of his arms around me, the sound of his breathing, calm and steady. I think about his warmth and his scent as he sleeps beside me. I miss him. If he were here, he’d make me say exactly what’s on my mind. No use bottling it up.

“I suppose we could go all the way right now,” I say, “instead of finding a place to stay way out in the suburbs.” We had planned for a noon arrival on orientation day, so she would have time to organize her dorm room before heading into the maze of new student activities.

“No.” Her reply is surprisingly swift and firm. “That’s not the plan. We don’t want to get to the city after dark. And I bet there won’t be any vacancies near the school, anyway, and even if we found a place to stay, the hotels are massively overpriced and the residence halls don’t open to new students until tomorrow at noon.”

Her barrage of protests is a bit mystifying. She couldn’t wait to get to college but now, the night before her new life is set to begin, she seems to have all the time in the world. I’m gratified that she wants to extend our time together.