It's very quiet around the house. After a rushed August getting Patrick and Libby re-set for school, this month is depressingly still. Patrick went back to Lynchburg two weeks ago, and yesterday I watched Libby meander through security at Dulles to catch a plane to Japan.
Of the two, Libby's leaving is the hardest. Not only is she literally half the world away, she's my only girl, the one I roll eyes over the boys with, shopping partner, have-you-any-chocolate conspirator. She'll be gone for a year and come back with experience and vision that will in some ways make her a stranger to me. I want that adventure and growth for her, but I'll miss my girl.
Military parents do this by the thousands everyday; send away that boy or girl who leaves a space in the heart. Proud, worrying, waiting for the e-mail that says everything's fine. I wondered how they did that.
It occurred to me that I've spent the last seven years sending one child or another off into the rest of their lives. Two have circled back for a little while; economics and uncertain academics causing a re-evaluation of what they're doing and how best to move on. They will, when they're ready, and I'll pack them up and say goodbye again.
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