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You know the term rising? It’s a summer term to indicate the grade a child will enter in the fall, as in will be a freshman or freshman rising. My daughter is now, at this very moment, entering her last summer rising. She will be a senior come September. We commented this past week how the college years flew by, especially compared to high school. Like the instant she graduated, we went to warp speed. Is it because at home we only see bits and pieces of her life or is it because there are fewer tortured, ingrained moments that happen in college? Despite living-on-their-own growing pains, college is relatively smooth. No driver’s ed, no puberty, no curfew arguments, no acne, no sleeping until she was home safe in bed, no standardized tests orcollege applications. She worked impressively hard in high school. Hell, sometimes I worked impressively hard. When at 11 pm, on my way to bed, she’d ask me to read through an essay and then we’d both be up into the wee hours trying to assess Gregor’s psychological change after his transformation in The Metamorphosis.

Maybe time accelerated because I was less involved, less needed (except Bank of a Mom-ica). Before you think this is woe some, it’s quite the opposite. The girl is rocking it on her own. She’s been on the dean’s list from day one at a school where Kafka is the mascot (sorry for going Facebook braggy). I get her in my lock for 18 years, then baby bird has to leave the nest and when she does so with such grace and independence, not needing me as much my own way of rocking it.

So I spent way too much time the last three years, when I was not needed for essay work, perfecting biscuits. Sad but true. Why is it that with one rock hard, flat biscuit fail, I cannot leave it alone? I mean I don’t even really desire biscuits and my husband prefers gluten-free. Why can’t I make a biscuit that’s soft inside, crispy outside, salty and sweet and lifts up higher than where we started, why? For god sake, I did that with a daughter. Then, a few months ago, I discovered a quick biscuit recipe that relied on self-rising flour. I was up for it, or is it down now,even if it meant I had to throw out dog treats to make room for yet another flour varietal. Priorities Pepper.

So now that I’m dean of biscuits and strawberries are coming out of our farmer’s ears, the quintessential summer holiday and welcome-your-daughter home from school dessert was begging to be made. I was inspired by a LudoBird honey lavender biscuit I almost ate at a Clippers game until I dropped it on a guy’s head at halftime and watched him pick the honey out of his hair for all of third quarter. I felt badly about that..that I didn’t get to eat that biscuit.

Easy enough, I have lavender outside next to the butterfly garden I planted this year, you know to save the Monarchs. Although what I spent on six milkweed plants to provide food and habitat for pupa-catepillar-butterfly would have fed a family of four humans for a week, only a few insects had come to feast, until now. So get this, on my Martha Stewart tribute day when I was clipping lavender from my backyard for my homemade biscuits for strawberry shortcake, while wearing a full-on apron to cover my new favorite t-shirt that hides neck wrinkles, a Monarch fluttered over my head and landed on that one-hundred dollar meal I planted for her (I hope). Kind of like when I flew to Chicago the week before last to eat at Alinea (note: meals and flights were free). Sometimes the perfect meal is worth the journey as confirmed here.

Today, Kendall comes home to live for one last summer. Okay we know Millennials don’t leave the house that fast, but go with me. Cue dramatic music and as I was saying, it’s one last summer where we’re certain she’ll call our address her address. Our homes will be the same. Where I can count on her bellowing out song, oozing love on our pets, chunky heels clopping on the floor above, excitement of a story told in the morning beginning with oh my god oh my god oh my god I have to tell you about last night, and the brightest most infectious energy from a girl who puts artistry into life and wisdom into thought, who brings the confidence of a seasoned adult with the delight of a child. Driver’s ed, puberty, acne, curfew arguments, lack of sleep, college apps and standardized testing perhaps all enduring and necessary science fortransforming teens into autonomous beautiful creatures able to fly on their own.

If I had only known a few years back, I might have let self-rising flour do the trick sooner.

But, wait, we have a rising freshman in high school who just barked that he hates strawberry shortcake. Maybe you’d like it better dropped on your head, honey. Transformation begins.