I am sitting in the airport in North Carolina, waiting for my solo flight home. I check Facebook and my feed is filled with bittersweet photos of my friends, backseats full of suitcases and bedding, grinning, slightly anxious teenagers in front of brick buildings, or snapshots of dorm rooms neatly organized for perhaps the first and last time all year. People are reposting cartoons of mothers clinging to trees and wonderful articles about letting go of your orbiting little planets.
Used with permission from caglecartoons.com
The thing is, it doesn't get any easier the second time around. It's different, because they are rushing back to a known universe, without the t-shirted volunteers and established institutional agendas for entry. They have things in storage and roommates they chose. I was there almost strictly for logistical support...a last good meal, the Target run, the rental car with a big trunk. The need for me clearly receded with every load hauled up the stairs*.
Yes, this is as it should be. Yes, I accept and understand and, in unselfish moments, rejoice in this grown person who does not look back when I drive away**.
But I should still have brought my dark sunglasses to wear on the flight home. Especially because this song was on the radio as I dropped him off.
I'll be patient, one more month
You'll wrap your fingers round my thumb
Times are changing, I know, but who am I if
I'm the person you become
If I'm still growing up, up, up, up
I'm still growing up, up, up, up...
I still feel those tiny fingers, round my thumb.
* In case I missed any of his subtle exit cues, there were several actual glares yesterday before I left for my hotel. This is why I should not be allowed to do this alone. Last year my husband forcibly removed me from his room. I did redeem myself today by singlehandedly setting up a dual band wireless networkin 15 minutes flat, and buying him a large Mighty Meat pizza for late night leftover purposes.
** Of course. parents' weekend is a month away, so I'll be right back, full of resolve to be mature and independent. Like my kid.
All these KIDS going to COLLEGE and AFRICA and DRIVING and dating WOMEN FROM FLORIDA.
All these puppies who eat SCREEN DOORS and VALUABLE SUCCULENT PLANTS.
Sure, they're cute and happy, but they are TOTALLY NOT DOING ANY CHORES RIGHT NOW.
I want things the way they used to be. When kids stayed home and paid attention when you talked to them. When dogs stayed, period. When life was simple and cookies were made with a crapload of gluten and WE LIKED IT!
