I have to get up and go to work tomorrow.
But I have to be able, first, to close my eyes and go to sleep.
How does one do that when their child moves out and spends a night in an apartment. All by herself.
I’m all for the growing up stuff. Independence, check, I get that.
But I’m here. She’s there.
How am I suppose to keep her safe and keep her well. How do I know if she got home okay. How do I know she has enough to eat. Or if she is eating please tell me it’s not just Doritos and Mac and Cheese. And Coke. And Little Debbies. I hope she tosses a vegie in there occasionally.
She had her bed set up and boxes every where. Everything isn’t there yet. She’s been working and moving today so she didn’t get the chance to set things up. But she will. She has ideas and a plan. Her house will come together.
Mine will be different.
I won’t be able to open her door on my way to ride my bike in the morning and peek in to see her. I knew it was coming. So this morning, her last morning here, I went in before I left for work and kissed my baby goodbye. When I came home the woman she is, is living somewhere else.
I saw this coming. Growing up. I heard the talk about moving out “some day”. I didn’t expect some day to be today, so soon. And I didn’t see this shock I’m feeling now, coming at me.
We went to see her at work, and got her apartment keys and took her a few little surprises. It’s a nice little apartment. I’m happy for her to be testing her courage and independence. I’m happy she is excited about this. I have a feeling she will have some fun putting her self up to this challenge and rite of passage. This is a banner day for her. Tomorrow we’ll go over and take her some dinner after she gets off work. I hope that is the start of something fun for her and us.
But, still, tonight…. she’s not here.