- Get link
- X
- Other Apps
The laundry basket is a permanent fixture in the hallway these days, a quiet witness to the comings and goings of a life that is almost, but not quite, fully grown. I was folding things this afternoon, sorting the familiar from the new, when my hands found the heavy cotton of a sweatshirt. Across the chest, four letters: UCLA.
It felt heavier than just fabric and thread. It felt like a story that’s just beginning to be written, one I only get to read in chapters. I remember the campus tour, the way the sun lit up the brick and the sheer energy of the place—so many young people walking with purpose, carrying books, carrying dreams, carrying the whole world in their backpacks. You hope, with everything in you, that this place will be a container for all of it. A place to learn, of course, but also a place to become.
I think about the mission of a place like that. It’s meant to be a space for ideas to stretch their legs, for debate to be lively and respectful, and for knowledge to be shared like bread. But I read the headlines, I hear the noise, and I know it’s not always so simple. The same spaces that are meant for open learning can also become arenas of deep-seated hurt and fear. The world’s big, complicated conversations don't pause at the campus gates; they spill right into the quads and classrooms. And a place like UCLA becomes a small map of our very big, very polarized world.
It’s a strange thing, to want two seemingly opposite things for your child at the same time. You want them to be safe, held, and cared for. You also want them to be brave, to learn how to listen to ideas they don't understand, and to find their own voice in a world full of shouting. You want them to have both a shelter and a training ground.
So I fold the sweatshirt and place it on the pile. It’s just a piece of clothing, but it’s also a stand-in for a whole universe of hope and worry. A symbol of letting go and trusting that you’ve given them enough to navigate the beautiful, messy, complicated work of growing up.
How do we, as parents, hold both of those things at once—the fierce desire to protect their hearts, and the quiet hope that they’ll learn to open them wisely? 🧸
It felt heavier than just fabric and thread. It felt like a story that’s just beginning to be written, one I only get to read in chapters. I remember the campus tour, the way the sun lit up the brick and the sheer energy of the place—so many young people walking with purpose, carrying books, carrying dreams, carrying the whole world in their backpacks. You hope, with everything in you, that this place will be a container for all of it. A place to learn, of course, but also a place to become.
I think about the mission of a place like that. It’s meant to be a space for ideas to stretch their legs, for debate to be lively and respectful, and for knowledge to be shared like bread. But I read the headlines, I hear the noise, and I know it’s not always so simple. The same spaces that are meant for open learning can also become arenas of deep-seated hurt and fear. The world’s big, complicated conversations don't pause at the campus gates; they spill right into the quads and classrooms. And a place like UCLA becomes a small map of our very big, very polarized world.
It’s a strange thing, to want two seemingly opposite things for your child at the same time. You want them to be safe, held, and cared for. You also want them to be brave, to learn how to listen to ideas they don't understand, and to find their own voice in a world full of shouting. You want them to have both a shelter and a training ground.
So I fold the sweatshirt and place it on the pile. It’s just a piece of clothing, but it’s also a stand-in for a whole universe of hope and worry. A symbol of letting go and trusting that you’ve given them enough to navigate the beautiful, messy, complicated work of growing up.
How do we, as parents, hold both of those things at once—the fierce desire to protect their hearts, and the quiet hope that they’ll learn to open them wisely? 🧸
Image: Visual related to the article topic
Comments
Post a Comment