My college kid has flown off to her next adventure, and I’m glad she’s gone. We packed her bags and drove her to the airport and I cried and then we came home and I went back to bed because I had gotten up at the ungodly hour of 3 a.m. after going to bed at 1 a.m. to help her finish packing. Once I was rested, I stretched, exhaled deeply, and got to work setting my house in order.
I caught up on email, which largely consists of reading all the newsletters that piled up and unsubscribing from all the marketing messages that overwhelm my inbox after taking my daughter shopping. She’s gone for the next nine months. American Eagle; at the age of 51, I don’t need your cutoff shorts and midriff-baring tops.
First, I threw out all the candy
In the name of lowering my A1C, I cleaned the pantry and threw out all the candy that mysteriously and magically appears with the arrival of young people. I reorganized the kitchen to make it more usable, based on an idea I had in the middle of summer but couldn’t get to until she left.
I did a mountain of laundry (mostly towels) and cleaned my daughter’s room and her bathroom just in case we have more guests than our guest room can hold. (Plus it’s all fresh and waiting for her next visit at Thanksgiving.) I reached out to old friends I’ve been neglecting and arranged for coffees, lunches, drinks.
I took my time getting my life in order
And in between all this, I napped. I dozed, snoozed, and laid on the couch in a semi-conscious state. I finished a jigsaw puzzle. I made an easy meal plan for the week and went grocery shopping with my husband, meandering through the aisles of shame at Costco, ALDI, and our local grocery store. We walked the dog together at a slow, luxurious pace, letting our Yorkie sniff as much as his little heart desired rather than hurrying him along so we could get back to the house to move on to the next thing.
When college kids come home, they suck up all the oxygen. It’s not their fault; they don’t ask to be the center of the universe. Because my daughter goes to school 1,500 miles from home, because I work full-time, and because I recognize that an essential part of her growing up is letting her go be wholly herself on her campus, without me hovering, we see her only a few times during the school year.
Freshman year, we saw her at Thanksgiving and Christmas, again in late January when we flew out for a special event that, ironically, didn’t include her, and then for a week over spring break. This year, there is no event in January and our spring break will be just the two of us; she’s making plans with her college friends.
When my daughter’s home, I want to absorb every moment
So when she’s home, we want to absorb every moment, maximize each day, jam as much in as possible to make the memories we used to have the luxury of a year to accumulate fit into approximately 75 days. Everything else gets put on hold. Writing. Learning how to paint watercolor. Friends. Even family.
I greedily clutch her to me, inhaling the smell of her hair and covering her face with so many kisses she sighs in exasperation. We snuggle on the couch, long limbs tangled together, and watch our favorite shows and catch up on gossip. We go shopping and it feels like it did before she went to college. It is glorious.
I’m happy to be able to get back to my life again
And then she leaves and I look around at my messy home, my lapsed relationships, my dusty laptop that didn’t see even a minute of writing, and I heave a huge sigh of relief. I get to return to my stuff again. As much as I love my daughter, as much as I love every single moment I get to spend with her, I’m not above admitting that life is easier when she’s off doing her own thing.
There’s less laundry. Our work routine means predictable meal times (and since she’s gone, I can cook with mushrooms again). There is time for the things that nurture my soul, that fill my cup. I miss her and I’m happy she has returned to school. Both of these things can be true at the same time, and it’s okay to feel both sadness and relief when she returns to her world and I return to mine.
My daughter is thriving in school
I know I am fortunate to feel this way because she is thriving at school. She has a supportive, fun group of classmates. She loves what she’s studying. She’s involved in extracurriculars both athletic and academic. Right now she’s in Berlin with two of her three roommates for a class trip, and her daily FaceTime calls are filled with laughter and the relaxed ease that comes with simply hanging out with some of your best friends, even (or maybe especially) in a foreign country.
This allows me to relax and re-focus on my own world. She’s fine. I’m fine. This is how it’s meant to be when you’ve successfully raised a young adult. She is exactly where she’s supposed to be, and so am I.
I’m glad she’s gone
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