It is exactly a month tomorrow. 30 days until we drive this handsome man to his college, help load up his room, participate in the parent orientation. . . and drive away. This is HARD folks! The gap year has flown by. I am thrilled that he has been accepted at a learning institution where he can follow his duel passions of dance and film. He lights up a stage. He has such passion for what he does.
But the hole in our home life will be immense. He is the guy who always asks how my day was. Who hugs me every night. Who checks in often in so many random little ways. The house will be cleaner. The shoe rack will be tidy. There won't be dishes (or not so many!) in weird places. But I won't hear show tunes belted from the bathroom, or come upon him counting out choreography in the dining room. Or having him run in and tell me to come look at the moonrise or a special sunset.
It feels like not at all long ago that he was always cuddled up with me, reading stories or singing. Watching Kipper on TV. Taking nightly walks to the park. He has of all my kids, been slowest to step out on his own but now, he is ready.
This is all what should happen. He is ready to fly and I want him to soar. But I suspect I will also spend this last month spontaneously crying at odd random times. Send kleenex.
