I’ve just left my firstborn in Las Vegas. LAS VEGAS, a city I was proud to have never set foot in until nine months ago, when at the age of 44, I took my daughter there to tour the college. University, rather, a huge one, 30,000 students, the size of the entire *city* where I attended high school. And now she’s here, on this campus, in this triple digit heat, a quick two miles from urban chancre that is the Strip.
I’m writing this from a quiet hotel room, a modest Courtyard, where I sit ALONE. I am alone with a pool, a king sized bed, and enough disposable income to purchase any manner of alcohol, chocolate, or bath salts I might desire. Years ago, when the children were wee, I would’ve given 1.5 ovaries for this very setup—silence, personal space, and maid service—and yet I sit here alone, missing my daughter, who is striking off into this next chapter of her life.