| The boxes are packed, they sit in the hallway waiting to be put into the moving truck to take my Bean off to college. I feel so good. I have been waiting for the day when she could fly from the nest and courageously live her life. I am so excited for her and so very proud of her and what it took for her to arrive at this moment. I have only expressed to her and others how I am only filled with happy, positive emotions, and it’s true! However, even if it weren’t true, I would only want her to see me being positive because I can’t, in this moment, show weakness. I need her to see that I believe she can do this because I know she can. The only reason that I have done the majority of the work is because I have more experience with it, and I want her to be able to relax, and I know what she needs better than anyone; I am her mother. I know how to pack everything the right way, how to put all of the right things into all of the right boxes. I know which things are important to her and which things she needs in order to feel safe and comforted. I don’t want her to be stressed out by this part of the process. We did have so much fun shopping for her apartment and picking out things that would make her feel cozy and happy, and that was a lot for her and she is truly overwhelmed. She just needs me to get her through this last bit and continue encouraging her, and so that’s what I will do. She is being so brave, and so far there have been no tears. I am holding my breath. I am fine! She is fine! She will be fine!! I will make it that way if it kills me. She is exhausted. It is her last night at home. We have accomplished so much, and she needs to rest. We’ve got this, and I can’t believe how well it has gone. I lay on her bed next to her and our dog, Cody, and I am so proud of all that we have done. I know now that we are ready. We are laughing and being silly, and I am so happy that she is smiling and we are ending the day on such a great note. I am happy because my daughter is happy. And suddenly there it is. I see it. She is going to cry. Noooooo! I let out the breath I have been holding onto, and I hold her close as she cries into me. As I look around her room, I see her empty shelves, and I gasp. I am screaming inside – Nooooo! I will not cry! I will be strong because she needs me to be. I am her mother! She is being so brave, and I will be brave too. She tells me that she is going to miss Cody because he always sleeps with her and that she is scared because I will no longer be down the hall. I tell her that I won’t be down the hall anymore, but I am not far away. I reassure her that I believe in her and her ability to do this, and I ask her if she does as well. She does. I tell her that this next step is so important and that she is stronger than she thinks. This is her time to shine and to embrace life. I will always be here if she needs me, and I am so proud of her. She is smiling again, and she isn’t crying anymore, and I feel relief. We say our I love yous, and I leave her room. I pass the boxes in the hallway. I am crying. One by one, the emotions that I have methodically shoved into each carefully packed box escape through the heavy duty seal meant to hold them inside. There is nothing I can do to stop it. I am her mother! How do I get through this? She isn’t going to be down the hall anymore. I am going to miss her so much. More than I’ve let myself feel or see. I am exhausted and overwhelmed. This moment is finally here. I am scared. Who will I be? This next step is important for me to take. I am fine. She is fine. We will be fine… |
