8/23/2021

Tonight, I literally watched a piece of myself walk away as #3 (of 4 children) walked back to her dorm room after dropping her off when our off-campus dinner was over.

Leaving the nest

Our family moved her into her college dorm yesterday. That morning, before I got out of bed, I actually had the thought to not get up to take her and keep her home. I don’t know what the hell was happening with my emotions. This kid has been very challenging in a lot of ways. But, she has been an awesome kid in much more amazing ways.

Don’t get me wrong, I want her to leave my house and get some life experiences. She needs them. She thinks she knows everything and no one can tell her anything. Nothing like some real-world experiences that will humble her, and teach her some real-life lessons instead of just the verbal warnings I tried to give her when saying, “Just wait until you get out there.” Or, “the world doesn’t work like that.” Or, “it’s not that simple”.

And, she needed to go. She’s at the age where she is smelling herself and wants to challenge me. It’s for her own well-being that she’s reached this part of life where she goes off into the world. Not to mention, I didn’t get myself locked up for wanting to take her out of this world some days, even though I brought her into it. But I do worry about her. She has required much over the years, and I’ve been her biggest advocate. As well, she has been my soldier and always ready to go down fighting for her mother’s honor.

I have done my best to impart tools to aid her as she steps into adulthood. I’ve tried to be a living example of how to handle problems, people, as well as herself. At this point, I can only hope that she paid attention. I’m not saying I did everything right, but even where I was wrong, I hope that she can improve upon where I faltered. I only hope and pray that all my children do and be better than I. I think she will though. She’s better than I in a lot of ways. She’s super organized, a stickler for time, seems to have an endless fountain of energy, and doesn’t procrastinate. Which is very much unlike her mother.

Then she walked away

Even though I moved her in yesterday, there was something in that moment tonight as I watched her walk all the way back to her dorm. I couldn’t turn away until I made sure she reached the door safely. It was one of those times where I was compelled to take a mental picture. As I did that, I felt my heart shatter. Here was my big little girl walking away from me. Walking into where she will be staying well over 100 miles away from home. I won’t be able to yell upstairs for her to come to me or burst into her room. There will be no “see you soon” when I or she gets home. No more loud noises in the house from her boisterous personality. And mostly, no more good night hugs and kisses for a while.

It’s true, with each kid they elicit a different reaction. My older two, I wasn’t as affected as with #3. Those two thought they were grown well before their time and rejected my parenting in ways that made it easier to let them go. As much as this one was highly capable of doing so much, and did so much, she played the fence and wanted to remain a child. She needed…she needs me, and I guess since she’s taken up such a large amount of my time and energy, I need her.

I have one more left to raise into young adulthood and I will learn to focus my attention on her, but it will be an adjustment in the absence of #3. I wish I could explain the emotions as I watched this new version of myself walk to her dorm. I birthed that kid, and always tried to make sure she knew she was loved. I hoped that as she walked away, she could feel my love as though it was attached to her and capable of stretching far and wide. That even when it was the faintest of vibrations, that she would know and feel my frequency.

As I think on it, I know what got me. She didn’t turn around to see if I was still watching her. She held her head high and her shoulders back. Just like I taught her. She didn’t slouch or appear vulnerable. When she didn’t look back, the pride of how she carried herself punched me in the gut. She heard me all those years. She’s going to be okay. My mini-me will become the finest version of her own self. Although it hurt to watch her walk away, and it hurts because it felt like this time came so fast and like I didn’t have enough of it with her. I know that as she walked away from me, with each unwavering step, she was walking into her new self and becoming before my very eyes.