Ross Got Into Woodstock School

A week or so ago I ran across this on the blog of one of my new colleagues at Sun:

To A Daughter Leaving Home

When I taught you
at eight to ride
a bicycle, loping along
beside you
as you wobbled away
on two round wheels,
my own mouth rounding
in surprise when you pulled
ahead down the curved
path of the park,
I kept waiting
for the thud
of your crash as I
sprinted to catch up,
while you grew
smaller, more breakable
with distance,
pumping, pumping
for your life, screaming
with laughter,
the hair flapping
behind you like a
handkerchief waving

Linda Pastan

…in other words: Ross will be attending Woodstock School in India next year.

I’m so happy I’m in shock. And, at the same time… I will miss her to the marrow of my bones. Wish us all luck.


  1. Oh, dear Deirdre and beautiful Ross (i looked at the pictures)!
    I’m excited and stunned and remembering . . . to both of you, CONGRATULATIONS and hang tough as you jump into the warmest, most wonderful, hardest, most wrenching process of mother/daughterhood — thrills and deep, deep joy and loneliness and an eerie distance like you never felt before; yikes. the Woodstock years.

    I just had an email returned (wrong address) so came back to check you out and saw the news. At work, and can’t write more just now, but WILL.

    Damn. I’m just sorry she and Ella didn’t overlap up on the hillside. Later, A

  2. Congratulations, Rossella! May you benefit from every moment of this life-changing experience!

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