She makes me want to mother her. Not to worry. I never treated her as anything but an adult.
I'm also kind of excited for her. Because she's excited with the excitement of a seventeen year old who's never headed out on her own. And I'm a little bit jealous because she's going on a road trip with the boy she loves to plans she's optimistically thrilled about.
Oh, to be seventeen again...
But I'm sad. Because I'm not nearly as optimistic as she is. Because we'll never eat popsicles for breakfast and talk about travel plans together again. Because I never met her brother, never saw her step-dad's straw house construction, never talked to her about things I think are most important. She taught me I'm not quite as confrontational as I think I am. Especially with someone I don't know and wish I did.
And I'm selfishly sad. Because I know in two weeks I'll be talking to myself again. I'll be sitting on my couch eating a meal I cooked for myself. I'll realize I'm more comfortable if I know someone else will come home. Or that, even if she rarely emerges, there's someone else in my other room. And I'll realize How much I don't like living alone.