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My niece Isabelle is leaving for Argentina, and I don’t know how I’m going to stand it.
Isabelle is an adult, although I don’t know how that is possible, because I remember clearly the day she was born, on an extraordinarily cold day 22 years ago, and surely, I can’t be that old. I arrived at the hospital with a bouquet of flowers and a Mylar balloon that had gone flat because it could not stay inflated at below-zero temperatures. But Isabelle thrived.
I like to think that I have a lot in common with Isabelle, but this is wishful thinking, because Isabelle is a more capable version of me than I could ever be.
My oldest friend, Andrew, still remembers Isabelle politely excusing herself from the dinner table when my sister and her husband had us over for dinner. Isabelle was only three at the time; her brother, Beau, was not even born. She was patiently explaining to her baby doll in the next room, “You are not a bad baby. You just make bad choices.” Isabelle rarely makes bad choices. I have made more than my share.
I only recently started to enjoy dressing up and wearing nicer clothes. My memories of a 5-year-old Isabelle are looking at her carefully curated outfit, laid out on the bed the night before her day at kindergarten.
“What do you think, Tia?” she would ask. She called me Tia because she went to a Spanish immersion kindergarten and immediately became bilingual, so I became Tia instead of Auntie, which suited me just fine. “What do you think?”
The choice on the bed involved which pair of tights matched the preselected skirt and sweater she planned to wear the next day. This is how Isabelle has always conducted her life.
When Isabelle got older, we would go shopping together at consignment shops, and Isabelle quickly learned the ropes. We might like something we saw, but we only bought things we “love, love, loved.”
“I love it, Tia,” Isabelle would explain a little wistfully. “But I don’t love, love, love it!”
I still dress up for Isabelle every time I see her. We go to the theater together and go out to eat, and I get to hear what she is up to. It did not surprise me that she did well in college. Her work was done well in advance. She didn’t struggle with procrastination or pull allnighters. She has always been the girl who was prepared for whatever the next day would bring.
And now, after doing well in college and contemplating law school, Isabelle is taking a year off to volunteer in Argentina. She will be working at a battered women’s shelter and organizing a youth group with a church down there. She will be on her own, paid just enough to live, and she is not permitted to have visitors or return home for a full year—not even for Christmas.
I am going to miss Isabelle something terrible.
She knows she will be lonely, and she’s doing it anyway. She will learn so much, and the challenges will make her stronger. She will become a new and even more capable version of herself. She will become even better at making decisions and caring for other people. She will acquire more experience—and she is already so wise. She is already the girl who is prepared for whatever the next day will bring.
Isabelle will be gone for a whole year, and I will miss her terribly. And I could not be more proud of her. Till next time, Carrie To see photos, check out Carrie ClassonAuthor on Facebook or visit CarrieClasson.com.
