I worried, I inadvertently lectured, and I davened. Marriage seemed so big and so scary and so permanent

During high school my eldest daughter decided she loved popcorn. We had an old Presto air popcorn popper that we’d received as a wedding present. I’d  used it for a few years and then stored it away, but now it received a new lease on life.

Shira became our family’s official gourmet popcorn maker. Pre-Shabbos snacks, siyumim, vorts, and late night DMCs were all properly provided for by our trusty Presto machine.

The year she was in seminary, we felt our popcorn loss keenly, but our popcorn chef was returned to us much too soon as COVID sent her home prematurely in March.  The Presto was back and seemed to be playing an even greater role in our lives. We could hear the noise of the air popper at all times of the night or day. Bad moods called for popcorn; so did celebrations. She grieved the loss of her full seminary experience and then moved on to college, and the next big frontier, dating. Time and milestones seemed to be moving quickly.

I wasn’t ready for the emotional toll her dating took on me. I’d been warned, but the cognitive knowledge wasn’t enough to prepare me for the maelstrom of emotions. We spent many nights staying up late talking about her hopes and dreams for the person she wanted to marry. I worried, I inadvertently lectured, and I davened. Marriage seemed so big and so scary and so permanent. My daughter was so wise and so little at the same time.

She dated. Some dates were good and some less so. She cried, I cried, I tried to be strong, and of course we ate popcorn.