Sunday, March 16, 2008

That's What She Said

I am at that time in life where all three of my kids are off on their own, and I have to say, I miss them more than even my overly verbal brain can say.

But yesterday I had a chance to see two out of the three, and it was the best day I'd had in weeks.

My daughter is a senior in college, getting set to graduate in just a couple of months, when she will then be moving far away for a exciting new job.

Yesterday, as I sat on her bed in her dorm, looking around at all the Hello Kitty paraphernalia, books and clothes strewn about, I found it hard to believe that my baby will soon not be a couple of hours drive away, but will be a drive, hours in an airport and a long flight away from me.

She fell down this week, slipping on the icy wintry-mix that had landed on the sidewalk as she made her way to class, and she called me from the infirmary while she waited to get her knee cleaned and bandaged. The second I heard her voice I knew something was wrong, and I knew if something was really wrong I could get to her. I have not yet reconciled in my mind how it will be for each of us knowing that I won't be able to get to get to her, or her me at the drop of a hat.

So yesterday I tried to put aside my sentimental feelings and got to have a day full of laughing at her highly inappropriate, yet very funny, "That's what she said" jokes, and her incessant teasing of me. After leaving her, my friend I had gone up with and I ventured into Cambridge to bring her daughter home, and to connect with one of my sons.

I mostly see my son when he's here, on the Cape, but as we walked the streets near his apartment in Cambridge, I really saw for the first time, this is where his life is now. And it was bittersweet. We sat in a cafe for a while, then we had a comical adventure involving lost and gained parking spots, an unfulfilled search for pie, his having to move a bureau for my friend, and eventually parting at a red light on Mass. Ave where I crawled out from the bureau -stuffed back seat, hugged him, and jumped into the front. While my friend and I sat at the red light, I watched my boy, now a six foot two inch young man, walk into the crowd on the sidewalk and back toward his home. Not my home, but his own. And then he was gone. The light changed, and we headed back to the Cape.

I'm not sure I'll ever fully get used to them not being under my roof all the time, but I think the fact that they're all doing good things, and that they're finding their way will make the letting go a little bit easier.

No comments: