No periods. Just commas.

About one month ago, my oldest baby, the baby who was literally born yesterday (okay, 18 years ago), graduated from high school. Like all parenting milestones, it was a mixed bag of joy and pride, tears and fear, walking the tightrope of celebration for how far you’ve come and apprehension of where you still must go. As we were shopping for graduation ensembles, I couldn’t help but see her as the toddler who wore patterned tights with every dress.

And as with all firsts (sorry first borns of the world), parents approach these things with disproportionate urgency. What do I need to know? What if I miss something? What if a deadline eludes me? What if at graduation she doesn’t have a cap or gown? The irrational list goes on.

I am dramatic when I am uncertain.

But between all the list making and phone calling and internet researching and grad party Pinterest planning, I tried to make the necessary time to ask myself what Sophie truly would need from me. High school is a small stage, but it’s the only stage they’ve known. Exiting stage right with the belief that the best is yet to come takes bravery.

What did I need to know at 18? I forced my old lady brain to stretch itself back 30 years and place myself at this point in life. What would help me?

There are several pieces of obvious advice. Don’t smoke. Don’t walk alone at night – buddy system always. Try to avoid Friday classes in college. Don’t eat pizza at 2 am. It really does come back to haunt you. Study but have fun. Be a good roommate and clean up after yourself. Wash your face. The practical list goes on.

And as my mind was wandering down memory lane, trying to be 18 without all the benefit of hindsight, the idea came to me: the one thing I wish I would have known that really would have helped me:

There are no periods in life. Just commas. And commas just mean we need to take a little pause, regroup and then move onward with a fresh face.

I wish I would have known that everything I thought was full of finality – that bad choice; that thing I regretted saying; that door that was closed despite how convinced I was it would open; that love that felt forever; that job that didn’t offer – none of them are periods. They are all commas. Because the real truth in life is that whatever is meant for you will always be.

I spent so many of my young years trying to force myself through discomfort. I didn’t want to feel pain or disappointment; rage or remorse. This is what leads us all to bottles of cabernet and years of therapy. We don’t want to feel it because it feels like a period. A hard stop with rough edges that allows none to pass. If I had only realized that all of that emotion I was running from was really just a pause, and a healthy one at that, then I could have stopped, rested in it despite the ickiness and moved on when my heart and head were ready.

Life always meets us where we are.

Even at 48 I still have to remind myself of this. No periods Just commas. Sit in the curve of the comma and catch your breath. Dust off. Don’t run. You’re not trapped in a hole, you’re just resting.

Sophie is a young woman of her own mind. She is quiet but confident; creative yet grounded; full of bold ideas but willing to listen. She is more self possessed and aware than I ever was at 18. And I hope that because of this, she will truly take it into her bones that commas are okay. Commas are purposeful.

And if she ever doubts or forgets, I will be there to pull her forward. No periods. Just commas.