I've watched her type her applications, and it sparked a flashback to when I sat in the kitchen of my run-down college apartment and learned I was pregnant with her. I'll never forget the look of the brown linoleum floor illuminated under the harsh fluorescent light, its buzzing the only other sound competing with my sobs. My boyfriend held his head in his hands, the positive pregnancy tests fanned around him like the color sticks at a nail salon.
I spent my daughter's senior year in what felt like survival mode. It was a year of constant decisions and deadlines, culminating in four years of planning. There were dozens of essays for college and scholarship applications, SATs, an artistic portfolio, supplemental applications, and departmental interviews. We had to complete all of this while managing an extremely rigorous senior year with AP classes, dual enrollment courses, and a calendar full of extracurriculars.