A Different Kind of Goodbye

In August we dropped our oldest daughter off at college and it was extremely emotional for us.   We, as her parents, recognized what this meant for our family.   It was the beginning of a new stage for us, a stage where our child would not spend every night under our roof, where we would no longer be privy to the mundane details of her everyday life, and where she would eventually start calling another place, not our beloved house, "home".  We knew this.  She didn't.   We had the wisdom of time and experience.  She did not.

On move in day she was so excited to get started on this new adventure.   She shed no tears upon our departure.   She ran to her dorm with her orientation group.   She had new friends to make, new classes to take, and so many new clubs to join.   It was all so exciting.

She started the semester with all her pencils sharpened, her laptop charged, and her ridiculously expensive textbooks lining her bookshelf.   She was thrilled that she only had to take four classes, as opposed to the seven she had to take each semester in high school.   She was ecstatic that she would never, ever have to take math again.   She LOVED that she could eat whatever she wanted without the glaring eye of her mother judging her choice to have a cookie BEFORE she ate her dinner.  Everything was perfect.

Until it wasn't.

After a while she realized that the reason you only take four classes in college at a time, is because those four classes are much more challenging than any high school class.    Then there was the day she was so excited to have lentil soup for lunch in the cafeteria, only to find out that the school's watery version paled in comparison to mom's.   And, later there was the small health scare she had because she was eating such crappy food.    On top of all of this the roommate match was less than perfect and the laundry machines were not always readily available, or working.

All this being said, she still absolutely loved being at college, and all the opportunities it afforded her.  But, it wasn't all easy, and we weren't always there to help her solve little, or big, problems that came up.  For better or worse, this was her new normal.

Over the course of the first semester she came home a few times.   Usually, with the exception of Thanksgiving, not for more than a night or two.   It was never enough time to get back into the rhythm of our home.   She quickly realized that life had gone on, when during these visits her sister or us, her parents, would go out with other plans, leaving her to her own devices.

The winter break was a little different.   It was longer and gave her time to really tuck back into our family.    She really enjoyed eating home cooked meals, having her laundry done, and mostly, not having to share a room.    She was more helpful around the house than she had ever been.   She was always quick to empty a clean dishwasher,  she helped with the grocery shopping, and even did some cooking and baking.    It was like she suddenly realized in the few months that she had been gone, taking care of herself (to the degree that college students do), that there were no magic fairies that did the household chores.    Things had to get done, and people had to do them, and she might as well help.

When it came time to bring her back to school, she seemed ready to go back.  She was looking forward to a new semester of classes, seeing some friends, and going back to her activities.   I took her back "home" on a Tuesday.   There was nothing ceremonial about it.    It was just me and her and a trunk load of stuff.   We unpacked the car, and I helped her make her bed just like I did in August.   She didn't seem so anxious for me to leave this time.   Unfortunately, due to an appointment I had back home, I couldn't hang around for too long.   Our goodbye was not overly emotional, or teary.   It was just a quick hug and a "I'll text you later".   But it was so different than our goodbye in August.

I knew that she knew.   She knew everything she was leaving behind, and some of what was before her.   She had months ahead of taking care of herself, eating watery lentil soup, managing living with another person, and tackling her studies.   There would also be a lot of exciting adventures ahead, some known, others still a mystery.   It wasn't good or bad.  It was different.  It just was what it was.

There is something wonderful and heartbreaking about watching your child come to the realization that their life is, just that, their life.  In my last post I wrote about how all we wanted for our children was for them to fly.    I guess the first step is the simple realization that you have wings, and that they have the incredible and terrifying power to take you away from everything you've ever known.   Check.