Fitting In

Susan managed to keep the tears at bay until the drive home from Thanksgiving. All weekend she’d held it in, hoping to turn her emotions around. She hated that Emma and Katie were in the car with her. She might actually have to put these complicated feelings into words and she just wasn’t ready yet. 

It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Susan and her two younger daughters had driven to her oldest daughter’s college campus to pick her up for Thanksgiving. Then they’d driven another hour to her mom’s house for the weekend. Her older daughter, Tenley, just wanted to show off her college experience to her mom. She didn’t mean to make her feel so old and outdated. And it wasn’t Tenley’s fault that so much had changed around campus since Susan was a student there, a quarter of a century ago. More tears. Saying it that way only made it feel worse. 

“Mom, are you okay? Mom? Are you crying?” Emma pulled one headphone away from her ear to pay better attention to her mom. Katie glanced up from her iPad in the backseat.

“I just…I don’t know,” Susan answered truthfully. Why was she crying, anyway? Wasn’t she happy to see her daughter thriving in college? And hadn’t it been good to visit her mom for the holiday?

Susan had heard the saddest stories of friends’ kids who got to college, only to find they were miserable, unable to make friends or connect to the world around them. She also knew of kids who had gone off to college and fallen into partying so much they were almost unrecognizable. All the things she remembered about kids around her when she was in college–on this very campus. But she also remembered studying at the library with friends (though it didn’t have a Starbucks in the lobby back then), struggling to find decent parking (though there weren’t eight huge parking garages when she was there) and buying piles of books for her classes (instead of paying for the online version of textbooks, like kids do now). 

Susan knew if Tenley had been caught up in more devious behaviors, she’d never sleep, constantly worried her daughter was going to get hurt or wind up in trouble. Thankfully, Tenley stayed out of trouble, got good grades, and still managed to have a social life that was balanced and fun. Susan should have been so proud, and at home, in her own environment with friends and colleagues her age, she was. But being back on her old campus, surrounded by Gen Z-ers that thought and spoke and moved faster than her, she just felt...left out. 

The morning they arrived on campus to see Tenley’s dorm and get a campus tour before heading to Susan’s mom’s house for Thanksgiving, excitement was quickly replaced with a stinging realization that Susan no longer belonged here. As Tenley met them at the door and walked them through the halls of her dorm, Susan casually asked, “Are you friends with some of the other kids on your floor?” 

“MOM! Shhhh! People can hear you!” Tenley responded, turning around with a harsh glare while deftly inserting the key into her door without looking. There was no one else in the hallway, so Susan assumed Tenley meant kids were still in their rooms sleeping. How else could such an innocent question be considered a problem? 

In her room, Tenley showed her sisters the posters on the walls, the books on shelves and the way she’d organized her desk. Susan took it all in, too, but unable to stand close enough to see what Tenley was showing her sisters, opted to give them some space by inspecting another corner of the cramped room.

“Oh, here’s the plant I gave you the day you left! How sweet. Looks like it needs a little water though.” Susan reached for the drooping pathos in the corner. 

“No, it’s good. You can leave it,” Tenley answered.

“Are you sure? I can just…” Susan balanced on one foot to reach for the pot of completely dry soil to carry it the two steps to the sink near the bathroom door. 

“No, you don’t need to…” Tenley started.

“Mom! She said you should leave it!” Emma reprimanded, backing her sister up. 

“Okay, okay,” Susan muttered, awkwardly balancing again on one foot to place the nearly dead plant back in its corner. She’d given it to Tenley the day she moved to college. It had been one of Susan’s favorites, and she was sad to see it so neglected. And weren’t these the same girls who, just last Christmas, celebrated their mom and her new gardening hobby by showering her with gifts of succulents and herb seeds? They’d been so happy to see their overworked, underpaid single mom find something that interested her, just for fun. Now that same interest was annoying to them. 

Susan worked to shake off the embarrassment she felt as they worked their way back down the hall, then the elevator, to her car. The girls all wanted to ride with Tenley the remaining hour of their trip to Grammy’s house for Thanksgiving, which gave Susan some time to get herself together before they arrived. 

“Do you want to just follow me out to Grammy’s house?” Susan asked Tenley as they headed to separate vehicles. 

“No, I just put her address in my GPS. We’re good.”

Susan smiled and nodded weakly as she walked back to her own car, alone. Of course they didn’t need to follow her. 

And Thanksgiving at her mom’s house…Susan hadn’t even added that to the mix quite yet. But spending the holiday feeling smaller than her own children probably contributed to the tears on the way home, as well. 

Her mom’s house had always felt like home, from familiar nic-nacs to specific rules to follow. She’d relished introducing her mom’s life–her old life–to her daughters when they were children. But this time, rather than spending most of her time making sure the girls were picking up after themselves, leaving Grammy’s bathroom tidy and taking their plates to the sink after meals, or showing them meaningful photos and books around Grammy’s home, she was left to actually participate in the kitchen. The girls were old enough to know their way around and keep themselves busy. They didn’t need Susan explaining everything to them anymore. 

“Susan, you know we can’t start those rolls until the last minute. There’s no room in the oven. Let me finish these casseroles first,” her mom admonished as she bustled around the kitchen. 

“I know, I’m just pulling them out of the fridge so we don’t forget.” Susan felt like a teenager again, having to explain her mistakes and good intentions to her mom. 

“They’ll probably be easier to roll out on the sheet pan if you leave them in there ‘til they’re ready,” her mom insisted. Rolling her eyes behind her mom’s back, Susan put the rolls back in the refrigerator and went to sit down across the counter so she wasn’t in the way. As she did, Katie climbed onto the bar stool next to her to watch the kitchen activities. 

“Now Katie, who are your teachers in 8th grade this year? You know I used to teach at that middle school a long time ago!”

“Yes, that’s what mom said. I think I know some of your friends. Did you know Mr. Stapleton in science?”

“Oh I did! I have some stories about him…” Susan patted Katie on the back and excused herself to her bedroom. She’d heard these stories a million times, was even there for some of them when she was a kid, but this was a chance for her mom and daughter to connect. She was just in the way. She messed around on her phone for a few minutes, checking emails and pictures on social media of her friends’ happy family gatherings. After a while, she took a deep breath and wandered back to the kitchen, wondering if she was allowed to start making the rolls yet. 

By now, Grammy had all three girls in the kitchen, each with their own job to do. Including the rolls. Susan sat back down on her bar stool, staying out of the way. At home, she was the captain of her own ship. As a single mom, she kept all the plates spinning with schedules, appointments, her job, the kids’ homework and activities, and household chores. Feeling obsolete overwhelmed her in a new and bewildering way. And now, in the car finally on her way back to the life she controlled almost exclusively, she felt more out of control than ever as the tears began to flow harder. 

“Is it Grammy? Tenley? Seeing your old campus?” Emma tried, gently taking her headphones all the way off to pay attention. The quintessential middle child, she was ready to listen and fix the problem. 

“Yes. All of the above.” Susan sniffed before accepting the fast-food napkin Emma fished out of the glove compartment. “No one did anything wrong. I just feel so…old and out of touch when I’m around Tenley now. Especially on campus. Like, I remember so much of it, but my memories are dated. That’s not how it is now, so I’m torn between my memories and trying to relate to Tenley all at the same time, but the two things don’t mesh. My memories only make it harder for me to understand Tenley’s life now.”

“That’s understandable,” the high school junior mused, as if she had any idea how to be a mom to a college freshman. “But Tenley was a little…full of herself while we were there.” 

“You think so? You two are thick as thieves. Didn’t you like visiting her on campus and seeing her room?”

“Oh, I did, but Tenley was definitely showing off. I mean, I get it–college is exciting. But I saw her being sort of edgy and ‘too cool’ a few times.”

“Yes! Maybe that’s what I was picking up on. And you know, it wasn’t that long ago that you guys came to me with questions and advice…feels like it ought to be the other way around now, but nobody told me we were switching roles.”

“Did you feel that way with Grammy too?” 

“Maybe a little. I still feel like a little kid sometimes when I’m around her. Maybe that feeling never really goes away.”

“I liked hanging out with Grammy this time. She was a lot of fun and she asked us a lot of questions,” Emma offered.

“She used to teach my math class!” Katie piped up from the backseat. “Well, not my class, but Algebra, like I’m in now.”

“Yep. She did. In fact, she did teach my actual class. Me and all my friends. She definitely knew more than me back then!” 

“That would be fun to have Grammy for my teacher!” Katie quipped before dipping back into her online game. Susan thought back to middle school, when her mom had been one of the teachers everyone knew and revered. She’d been at the top of her game then–she had all the answers and gave great advice to Susan and her friends. Hadn’t Susan filled that role for her girls, as well? Maybe every child needs to figure out how to break away from their mom eventually. Maybe this once was as difficult for Susan’s mom as it was for Susan now. 

“I’m glad you guys had fun with her,” Susan sniffed and dabbed at her nose and the corners of her eyes. She knew she needed to pull it together. On this Thanksgiving trip to pick up Tenley and visit her mom for Thanksgiving in the next town over, the girls all had a great time together, and her mom loved spending time with them. Everyone else had a fantastic weekend together. Only Susan felt left out. Outsourced. Outnumbered. Outdated. 

“I just wish I didn’t feel so caught in the middle. Too old to be relevant to Tenley and her friends, but I still feel like a kid when I’m at Grammy’s house. Did you guys hear her tell me I was doing the cranberry sauce wrong?”

“No, but that sounds like her!” Emma giggled and Katie joined in. 

“Maybe this is what they mean by ‘middle-age.’ You’re caught in the middle of growing up and being so old it doesn’t matter anymore,” Katie acknowledged. 

“Ha-ha, very funny. I hope I’m not considered ‘middle-aged’ yet!” Susan quipped back, grinning at her daughter in the rearview mirror. 

But that was exactly how Susan felt–so old it didn’t matter anymore. Almost as if she didn’t matter anymore. Her girls needed her less and less than they had when they were smaller. Tenley’s fantastic start to college amplified this notion. One day soon, they would not need her at all. And that was supposed to be a good thing. Susan had done well working herself out of a job where parenting was concerned. Only, what should fill that lonely space in her life now, the one that was always reserved for the inevitable problem-solving that comes with raising kids? Susan just didn’t know where she fit in anymore.