Sigh

It’s the launching season. Time to grab a pumpkin latte and check the school supply lists.

Or if you’re in the roomier nest stage like us, it’s time to clutch the ache in your chest and drop your youngest at the airport for his semester abroad. To trust that he has what he needs, literally and figurately, to explore the big, beautiful world and return home safely.

Then it’s time to rent a U-Haul to help move the newly graduated son into his first NYC apartment. It’s a big deal. I’ve been saving for this day. My basement is full of ‘first apartment’ offerings. Couches, a recliner, small appliances that work—just not as well as the upgrades that replaced them.

Yep, the kids are out in the world doing their thing. Starting new adventures. All good here, I texted my sister yesterday. Because it is. All good here. 

Sigh.

It’s a new season. One where my husband and I—who’d become more like relay runners—now get to return to the goofier selves to which we were first attracted. 

It’s also a season where routines no longer reign. Tasks that once felt mandatory have been rendered optional. Grocery shopping? No thanks. Dinner? Maybe. Laundry is now a competitive procrastination sport. We get around to it eventually. But we’re both waiting for the other to run out of underwear.

The number of souls that might fall apart if I drop one of the balls that were once soaring through the air, registers squarely at zero. Well, that’s not totally true. Daisy needs me. Rob forgets to put ice cubes in her water, and she doesn’t always drink without them. So, there is one very special canine that might experience dehydration if not for my diligence. But you get the picture—exceedingly low stakes.

Which is mostly liberating. Cause during all the chauffeur/calendar management/kitchen duty years there was a feeling of losing myself, a lot of the time. Now I have meaningful work, amazing friends—heck, I’ve got trips to plan!

Sigh.

I miss the old days. The clarity found in the predictable rhythm of family routine. Don’t get me wrong. I’m excited for what comes next. For the boys and me. 

But there’s a tickle in my gut knowing that Staples is chock full of sharpened pencils, three ring binders, and those ridiculously expensive calculators that they had to have, and I knew they’d lose. 

I’m in good company. There are loads of poignant momancholy articles flooding my social feeds. I know that I’m not alone but it’s a lonely feeling, nonetheless. 

There is no fix for this condition. No going back. This was the goal all along. And someday not too far from now, I’ll likely look back on this chapter with a similar deluge of nostalgic emotion. 

Time to appreciate this day. Get cracking. No way around, only through. 

Sigh.

You know what might help? 

New pencils. Oh, and notebooks! Can always use those. We’re also running low on envelopes and my favorite black cartridge pens. 

Guess I’ll make a list. Right after I get my pumpkin latte.

That Was A Lot of Work, Also Fun and Quick...