By the end of tonight

It's a band she wants to see. Tonight, in Austin. She approached me cautiously yesterday, I don't think you'll let me, but can I go to Austin tomorrow to see By the end of tonight?

Of course what I responded with was: What's that?

She gushed that it was a band she likes, and Saturday night was the last night Josh the guitarist would be playing with them. There are plenty of arguments that won't sway me but this one I understood. The desire to see a band's last live show with its founding members, I understand heart and soul.

I think for a minute. I don't see why not. You are old enough.

She lights up, Really?

Where are you staying?

Um, I don't know.

I tell her to figure that out and let me know.

She calls me while I'm at dinner with friends, I spoke with [her friend] and she said we can stay in a hotel, someplace inexpensive, by the hour.

Um, no. Cat, never stay in a place that has hourly rates.

I give her the reasons.

Oh.

This morning, I reserved and paid for a room at a Days Inn near where the concert will be. There was a form to be faxed back and forth, my permission for her to use my credit card, acknowledging that she's under 21, etc. She is to bring a copy of the credit card and my drivers license with her to show when she checks in. I hand her the paperwork and she looks at me and thanks me so much, punctuating it with an excited and unsolicited hug.

This kid, this bright, kind, beautiful young woman soon to be 20 is currently on her first road trip. It's a page her own to fill and remember. As I write this, I'm filled with excitement for her, for this experience of freedom I know she's having.

Still, she is a teenager. Absentminded at times, easily distracted. When I hand over the piece of paper with my financial and driving identity, I tell her that if she loses it, I will sell her into the black market for teenage prostitution and then she'll really understand what hourly motel rates are all about.