Off To Build A Nest Of Her Own

12/22/2015

Sarah & Tiger at a Pumpkin Farm in England, 1996

It's strange to feel happy and sad at the same time. For the last few days, I've been on the verge of tears nearly every waking moment due, in part, to equal measures of both. You see, this time when my little one leaves home, she won't be coming back except to visit and while I've been prepping her for this moment nearly her entire life, she's totally ready and I am not. Apparently I forgot to prepare myself. Is that even possible? Saturday evening she'll be gone and my mind is a mess of those ramifications...not hearing her happy chatter through dinner, or her complete goofiness in the grocery store, her snuggles with me on the sofa, or her loud music (usually something in Spanish with a Latin flavoured beat) wafting down the stairs. How empty these walls will feel without her...

Have I said everything I needed to say? Told her I loved her enough? Reminded her how wonderful I think she is? As I pick through the 22 years of her life, I look for the ways I could have built her up and the times I'm pretty sure it worked. I sat on the deck with her last night before bed, listening to her run various plans by me and her father. When she was quiet for a moment, I said, "I hope you know how proud I am of you." "I do, mama. And thanks," she replied. I looked at her and repeated it, "You have done such amazing things already. You've worked hard to open doors that are opening for you now, and I mean it, I want you to know that I'm over the moon with pride at your accomplishments. I don't remember either of my parents ever saying that to me even once, and it's important, I think. I promised myself long before you were born not to make those same mistakes but besides that, I genuinely mean it." "I understand," she said, giving me a patient "Oh MOM" kind of smile. I tried to explain how strange it is to let go of your whole world, as all parents must eventually do with their progeny. But really, until she stands in the very spot I'm standing in with her own children someday, it is an attempt made in vain. She has no basis of comparison, yet. And someday, when she does, I hope she'll remember me. On Saturday, amidst a flourish of holiday celebrations, I'll have to mostly say goodbye to that little girl who was my shadow for so long. Somehow, I'll find a way to plaster a smile on my face and let her go with grace. I can fall apart after she's gone. Her dad has some pretty potent gorilla glue standing by for just such occasions and he's used to having to put me back together!