My daughter committed to a college, and I paid deposits for her housing and orientation. Then she changed her mind.

I smiled at the Facebook memory that popped up in my feed. It was from one year ago, showing pictures of our family celebrating my daughter’s Senior Night. In the caption, I wrote about my bittersweet emotions and shared her decision to attend her dream school 2,000 miles away.

I caught my breath reading it. What I had shared so confidently then no longer matched her reality.

She had been so excited when she decided to attend this college, but in the spring of her senior year — after we’d announced her decision and paid deposits for housing and orientation — she had a change of heart. She decided she would rather attend a smaller school close to home.

It felt perfect — at first

After visiting what she said was her dream school in the fall of her senior year, she announced she couldn’t see herself going anywhere else. It was a big school in a beautiful mountain setting, near a place our family had vacationed for years. It spoke to her outdoorsy nature and interest in environmental studies.

When she was accepted just weeks later, she was thrilled. I supported her decision and paid the school’s housing deposit early.

Still, something nagged at the back of my mind. During earlier college visits, when she was a freshman and sophomore, she had expressed that larger schools made her anxious. At the time, she said she liked the feel of smaller colleges and the idea of staying close to home.

I pushed those thoughts aside, though, and basked in her happiness. We booked flights to orientation and even cried together when, in March, she was accepted into the school’s Honors College.

Then she changed her mind

Just one week later, everything changed. She told me she wanted to attend a small college about 100 miles away from where we live instead.

I was stunned. I must have asked her a dozen times if she was sure. But even as I processed the reversal, I knew it was my job to support her and what she wanted.

I pushed through my shock to deal with the practical fallout. I scrambled to track down deadlines for the small school and send in a deposit. Meanwhile, I worked on recovering money and canceling our visit to orientation at the once-dream school.

This swap left me with big feelings

The emotional fallout was harder, though. First, I considered what others might think since we had shared her decision so publicly. But I quickly realized I didn’t care. So many of my friends were in a similar place, their kids still waiting, still deciding, still unsure.

What surprised me most was logging into the dream school’s portal to withdraw her enrollment. I hovered over the button, caught off guard by how final it felt. I had believed her so easily when she said she wanted to attend this school. Why was it harder to believe her now that she was saying no?

If I were honest with myself, I felt relieved that she was staying closer to home. And that she listened to her gut instinct, the one she had voiced from the beginning, that she preferred the feel of small colleges.

I clicked “withdraw” and felt a shift as I let go of the dream school. It wasn’t my dream to hold onto anyway. My daughter was brave enough to change her mind and trust her gut. I could be brave enough to give her the space to grow in this new direction, even if it wasn’t her first direction.

A year later, I know she made the right decision. Everything about the small college has been a good fit for her.

She’s even mentioned the dream school might be worth considering for graduate school. And I know it’s not my job to hold onto the dream, but to make space for whatever dream she chooses next.