On Saturday morning, when our youngest daughter receives her English degree from the University of Hawaii at Manoa, Mrs. G. and I will do a happy dance in our seats in the Stan Sheriff Center.

Jo is our second contribution to society. Her sister, the high school science teacher, received her master’s in education last May.

Two daughters, two college graduates, two different degrees. As parents, Mrs. G and I could not have asked for more.

But in truth, we’ve wondered if we guided them to the right path in life. If we were too overbearing or judgmental when it came to their career choices. If we dealt with them fairly.

Firstborn wanted to study photography. We said she had a better chance of getting a job with a biology degree. She was disappointed, there were tears of frustration — hadn’t we always encouraged that side of her? — but today she has a job. It helped, Firstborn told me the other day, that she likes science.

Jo initially thought physical therapy, then nutrition, would sustain body and soul. They were not for her, though. She could not love them the way she loves words. Mrs. G and I could see the struggle on her face when it came to her science and math classes, so we put our faith in the power of education and let her choose.

And so, a poet blossomed.

A parent’s desire to push a child in the best direction is instinctual. It’s what we’re here to do. We’ve lived longer. We know better. Listen up, kid.

From the time they were young, our daughters knew there was no shortage of opinion at home. Or personality. They learned early that their father talked a lot — they like to say “lectures a lot” — and that their mother wouldn’t hesitate to explain why a choice they had made was the wrong one.

Mrs. G. would calmly win them over with equal parts reason and guilt. In my effort to be encouraging, I would note that everyone is on their own path. (How could I have forgotten that?)

Our conversation with Firstborn about her career, halfway through her sophomore year at Puget Sound University, was fueled by reality: The economy had tanked. But our fears were personal and plain to see: Mrs. G. had recently lost her job.

We wanted Firstborn to have a shot at employment. We didn’t see that in art.

Three years later Mrs. G. and I sat at the dinner table with Jo and listened as she explained her desire to write. She wasn’t sure of her path in life, just her desire. We made her promise to have a plan — and she does.

Two daughters, two choices, two parents waiting to exhale.

On Saturday, when I watch the graduation ceremony unfold, I won’t need reminders to know my daughters see the world in ways that I do not. And that they’ve made good choices. Their own choices.

Firstborn put her own stamp on her science degree, and I’ve told her that. As a teacher, she will focus young minds to see more than what their eyes reveal — like a photographer. And I will tell Jo that she has powers greater than any doctor because poets can heal a broken heart with words.

Could a parent ask for anything more?

Reach Mike Gordon at 529-4803 or email mgordon@staradvertiser.com.