Today we took Hudi back to college. Christmas break is over, and the gift we had of our children’s presence in our home is now a ribbon of happy memories.
Time is marching on, and we are — yet again– in a new stage of life.
Hudi is our youngest baby (yes, they will be my babies well past when they are 983 years old) , and he has made a down-payment for an apartment he plans to move into in May, after he gets his Associates degree. The place is near where he plans to go for his Bachelor’s degree — two hours from us.
You know what that means? It means that after today, this abode where Chris and I dwell will never be considered home to any of my children. Zeb and CJ are in Utah, and now the final fledgling is making his way into the world.
It’s so stinkin’ bittersweet.
You see, I’m thrilled by their enthusiasm and passion for taking on life. And super-thrilled that all three sons (and their fabulous women in their lives) are still constantly in communication.
Yet I literally have dreams where I walk through empty rooms, which were once filled with my boys’ treasures, and in my dreams I’m sobbing. So silly. Especially since I don’t tend to be a crier in real life. Then I wake up and realize that the dreams are almost true. Very little of their belongings still take up our living space.
But you know what? That’s how it goes.
As flash-memories whip my brain from high-pitched voices regaling adventures of the latest snake they had caught to bass-tones expounding over the latest culinary concoction discovered, or VR code learned, or mountain-board element designed, I realize that it truly is more sweet than bitter.
I just need to learn to adjust, and I guess I’m still growing up, too.
Apologies here if this post is a bit melancholy, but somehow my fingers and brain are feeling the urge to siphon some of the emptiness of the house and transmute the essence into words on a page.
The transition is not simplistic, and that’s real. When it gets hard, I think I will just cling to memories of these happy moments (and plan to create some more happy memories).
Love these kiddos!
2 responses to “And so it Goes”
You live a real life, and it’s not always a bed of roses. Thanks for sharing your reality, which keeps things in perspective.
Dittio! I feel your pain. I still have one left at home, but even he is laying his plans for the changes that are coming all too soon. Hold on to those memories and when the opportunity arises make as many as you can. <3