I don’t do departures. Who wants a sobbing middle-aged woman standing around the airport while a piece of her heart boards a flight for far off lands. I stay home, talking to God and the walls, smelling the pillow cases, picking up damp towels, and remembering.
This morning I remember playdates and backyard chemistry kits, chin stitches and handwriting lessons, Magic Treehouse and Harry Potter glasses, mutant turtles with disrespectful attitudes, learning to drive and guitar hero superpowers. I am remembering the music, the crumbs, and the delightful reentry at the end of each school day. The friends, the plans, the organic nature of it all.
My middle child’s great big feet, frame and heart filled our home for 18 years and then some. Today he left on the adventure of a lifetime – a year abroad. He’ll learn and grow and change, and will return next summer, but not to us. He’ll return to the life set before him of college and science and friends and work, and it will never be the same. It will be as it should be and I am delighted.
But today, mostly I am just missing him. And praying those who receive him today will fully embrace the joy that living with Chris will bring.
