Both of my girls are leaving.
My oldest is moving to France. For a YEAR.
We leave to drop off my oldest on January 2. She’ll be gone for the whole of the year of our Lord 2026. My youngest will start college next fall. And y’all, it feels so extreme.
I always knew the nest was going to empty – we’ve been working for the nest to empty – but I think it feels different than if just the last little birdie was rolling out of the nest. Or maybe because it’s starting so soon. (As I submit this in early December, the oldest leaves in 30 days.) Whatever it is, there is sooooooo muuuuuuuuuuch emotion churning in my body, especially my heart.
Maybe, like in so many instances, the anticipation of it will be worse than the actual event. But I’m taking her over to France and then just leaving her there, which I know will be excruciating in the very most exciting way possible.
Even typing this, I’m thinking of the first day I dropped her off at preschool and then real school and then that time I left her to the care of a stranger at a strange school when we moved to New Zealand for six months. (I know – that last one still gets me!) And then her first day of her new school back here and then college.
Every next thing has been the natural progression of life for her and each time it was scary and each and every time she flourished.
She absolutely soared into the person that experience shaped her to be.
It’s been astonishing and extraordinary and magical to witness. I have every reason to believe that this year abroad will be the same.
And yet. I dread it.
She is so funny. The way she phrases things and snarks about college life makes me chuckle to myself long after we’re not together. She is confident in her decisions. She is so curious. She is so smart. She is so capable. She is so tender. She is so beautiful. She is so disciplined. She is a good friend. She is generous.
I was lucky enough to study abroad myself, back before the turn of the century. I remember being aware of how I was growing and changing and becoming more confident in real-time. Just about every new experience in Spain started with some trepidation, but as I was moving through whatever it was – meeting my new host family, talking to a shop owner about why my camera wasn’t working, making my way to the Madrid airport alone – I realized while it was happening that I was doing it – I was figuring it out and getting it done. And so then the next time I had to try something new, I had more confidence
that I’d be able to figure it out. I was conscious of my resilience growing. And I have carried that with me these last 35 years.
To know my daughter is getting ready to embark on the same kind of experience? It is magical and so exciting and I cannot wait to witness it and I hate it because she can’t do that living in my house where I know she’s safe and I can enjoy her all the time.
My youngest is going to college.
My youngest will graduate from high school a couple months after we drop off the oldest and will shuffle off into the next stage of her own life. We don’t know where she’s going yet or any of the specific details, but we know there is inevitable change and growth waiting for all of us, her especially.
I recently went to a reunion weekend with some of my college friends and was reminded again what special, long-lasting friendships are created – many starting freshman year. I’ve watched it with my older daughter and her college friends and knowing that my youngest is about to meet some of the very best friends she will ever have. The ones she will meet as a girl and leave school with as a woman. I love that for her and can’t wait to watch it unfold.
Her world will expand exponentially, and her values will be challenged and honed, and she’ll discover new things about herself. How wildly exciting! But also, maybe she could just live at home with me forever so I know she’s safe and can enjoy her all the time.
I have more inner turmoil about her leaving – even if she just goes right down the street. She’s struggled with depression and anxiety and turning her loose in the world where I can’t keep eyeballs on her and make sure she’s doing okay is terrifying. But also, it must be done.
She’s so much stronger than she was five years ago. She’s got more tools in her proverbial toolbox to handle how she reacts to what life throws at her. And she’s okay. Is everything perfect? No. She’s still got depression and anxiety but she’s okay. Am I still afraid it will all get to be too much for her like before? Yes, always. I will carry that fear with me until the day I die. But sheltering her forever isn’t good for anyone and I’ve already acknowledged that I’m slower to let go of past fears than she is. She is getting it done. She is handling life pretty well for a 17-year-old.
This girl’s heart is so big and kind. She has an awareness that most fully formed adults don’t, and she never misses a thing. She is dialed in to how a person feels and goes out of her way to include, uplift, and support them however she can. She’s wicked smart and just knows things. She’s so funny and wise and will spend a minute deciding if someone is worthy of her trust – and if she thinks they are, she’ll go to the ends of the earth for them. She has a servant’s heart and will go out of her way to help others, often to the exclusion of herself.
The house will be so empty without her, and I will miss her freakishly long eyelashes and sparkly eyes that just about hypnotize me every time I look into them. She holds my heart so tightly and I will miss her in ways I can’t even imagine yet.
Every next thing has been the natural progression of life for her and each time it was scary and each and every time she flourished.
She absolutely soared into the person that experience shaped her to be.
It’s been inspiring and extraordinary and magical to witness. I have every reason to believe that college will be the same.
I will be left at home.
Boy that sentence sure looks sad and pathetic, but it doesn’t feel that way to me.
After 20 years of active, hands-on, in-person parenting, I will be transitioning to a remote position, I suppose. Still doing that job, but just differently than before. Turning over some of my responsibilities to each kid. Taking on a new role in their lives. Redefining who I am at this stage in my life.
And I think back to all of the other major changes in my life and know that I have handled them well. I have done a pretty good job each time. It hasn’t ever been perfect, but I always fully committed and loved where I was and what I was doing at the time. Even though it was unknown and I had doubts going into it.
Every next thing has been the natural progression of my life and each time it was scary and each and every time I flourished.
I don’t know that I soared into the person that experience shaped me to be, but I sure waddled along and got there in the end.
It’s been amazing and extraordinary and magical to live. I have every reason to believe that empty-nesting will be the same.
I marvel at my girls and the women they are becoming. I can’t wait to see how the future unfolds for all of us.
