The partially empty nest doesn’t clean itself. On the day Gwen moved into her dorm, my SUV was stuffed to the gills, complete with a large man-sized duffle bag strapped to the roof. One would think that there wouldn’t be much left at home, but one would be wrong. I warned her that I was going to be merciless about purging the things she left behind, and she told me that was fine. After all, if it didn’t make the cut to college, how important could it be?
The duffle on top most of her clothes. But only the summer ones.
With a mix of nostalgia, melancholy, and a little bit of glee, I emptied out her desk and nightstand. I filled the recycling bin with old school papers, and tossed empty pens and dried-up markers in the trash. Half-filled spiral notebooks littered her drawers, the loopy cursive of her handwriting sprawled on the pages that were sometimes a decade old.
Gwen has always loved to write, and her stories are strewn about the house like Easter eggs. When I discover one, I tuck it away to respect her privacy and perhaps preserve a bit of the little girl she used to be.
I don’t read her stories without permission, but I have always read her essays and papers. As early as age ten or eleven, Gwen knew that a thorough proofread and edit could strengthen her pieces, and she took advantage of my eagerness to go to town with my red pen. Having a fresh pair of eyes on her writing has helped her hone her skills and improve vocabulary and grammar.
At college, Gwen has many fresh pairs of eyes at her disposal. There is a writing center, peer editors, and any number of kids on her floor who would proof a paper for her. But she and I have a rhythm, and I am more than happy to read a paper about Shakespeare as long as I don’t have to write it.
I prefer to edit on paper instead of on the computer, but long distance editing is best done via email. Yesterday I read a comparison paper on The Merchant of Venice and A Jew in Venice. (“This class SUCKS,” Gwen has informed me multiple times this semester.) I was reading for style, grammar, and clarity, which is all I can offer since I have not read either play.
I added my comments and suggestions in red, and emailed it back to her. I finished a piece I was working on, not quite satisfied with the ending. A fresh pair of eyes helps me too, and Matt is my usual editor. Why not have Gwen do it this time? The piece is about grandparents and grandchildren, and her perspective could be helpful.
As I was reading the final draft of her paper, she was reading my essay. The two pieces passed one another on the web as they were returned to their writers, and I smiled when I saw Gwen’s red comments peppered in between my own words. She caught a verb tense shift I needed to correct, and she tightened up a few phrases and ideas. She even included a comment: (lol this last sentence made me laugh). It was intended to be funny, so I was happy to know it hit its mark.
I didn’t use all of her edits, as I’m sure she doesn’t always use mine. But our exchanges over text and email gave me a mom-buzz, which is the joy I get from feeling close to my children even when they aren’t with me. She needs me less and less as she finds her own way in the world, but my fresh pair of eyes will always be here.
Even when they get a little misty behind my middle-aged reading glasses.
The post A fresh pair of eyes appeared first on Kiss my List.