It's done. My daughter is living the college life in New Hampshire.
We turned it into a three-day trip, using the time to visit with family as well as having a rest stop before the final leg of an eight-hour drive. Her dorm room move was quick and easy, and soon we were on our way back home.
I didn't ugly cry once.
At first, I began to wonder why I wasn't the teary-eyed mess I expected myself to be. Part of me wondered what was wrong- didn't all mothers cry when their babies went off on their own? Before I considered myself a client for the looney bin, my husband sensed my trepidation and simply stated: "You're not crying because you know she's ready for this."
Oh.
He was right- she had been testing her wings long before the drive to a new life of learning. In fact, she was so busy with high school and working a part-time job we hardly ever saw her for the past few months. She was ready- and apparently, so was I.
When we arrived home in the late evening, the house seemed quieter. Smaller. Weariness from the trip caught up with us, and after being inspected by all three cats when we walked through the door, we went to bed.
Several times during the next few days I caught myself looking for her, calling for her, and even bought her grapes to snack on when I went grocery shopping. I promised I wouldn't call her for at least her first day- helicopter moms aren't cool, so the college staff warned. So I tried to find other things to do while I snacked on grapes.
My cell rang with her special ring tone. She called me! We had a lively conversation as she introduced me to the faceless comrades around her; amused tones of greeting from her new acquaintances and roommates as they headed towards the dining hall. After hanging up, I realized something.
I didn't just love that kid- I liked her. I really enjoyed listening to her tales and hearing all the latest news and antics of college life.
She had since called me several times to tell me about her day, or when she's feeling overwhelmed, or just needed a little prayer to calm her nerves. It's good to still feel needed by your kids- but not-so-needed that they fall apart when you're not right there next to them.
Soar, my little bird. I take great joy in watching you fly for the first time.
Okay, now I'm crying a little.
The relationship is changing. Growing. Maturing. I hope she still calls me for prayers and updates regularly throughout her four-year stay. In the meantime, I'll eat her grapes and smile when I think of her.
I really miss you, kiddo!
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