Goodbye Kahrin

I couldn’t wait to go to college.

I couldn’t wait for my daughter not to

- Shelby Spear

I woke early. it was still dark. The house was quiet. Where was Kahrin? Was she okay? I reached for my phone, then remembered. It was useless. Kahrin didn’t have her phone.

My 19-year-old daughter was on a 10-day service trip to Guatemala organized by her university. Kahrin and I were close. We talked and texted every day. I had two sons; Kahrin was my only daughter. I was all too aware of the vulnerabilities of being a woman. It was my duty to keep her safe.

When Kahrin was in fourth grade, she announced she wanted to play football. Tackle football. Kahrin was tiny. I was anxious about letting her play.

Still, my husband and I decided to let her give it a shot. Kahrin was so small and fast, she became the team’s quarterback. I gritted my teeth through each game. Each time she got tackled, my heart stopped. Then came a moment when she was tackled and stayed on the ground. Enough was enough. Her football days were over.

In high school, I refused to let her go to the mall by herself.

“Mom, all my friends have been going by themselves for ages,” she said.

“That’s beside the point,” I said. “It’s ridiculous that you think I need a buddy to buy a pair of jeans!” After weeks of pleading, I relented. When she was a senior in high school, she wanted to drive to Ohio University to visit her brother.

“You want to drive more than three hours by yourself?” I said. “On a highway? What if you break down? What if your phone dies and you can’t call 911?”

“Mom!” she said, sounding exasperated. “Didn’t you ever go on a long road trip at my age by yourself?”

“Yeah. But that was different.” “How?” Kahrin asked. “Because you didn’t have a cell phone or any way to communicate with anyone?”