Time

This summer has flown by and the arrival of August seems startling because it brings me that much closer to the day when I will pack up a car and drive JT to three hours away, to college and the next chapter of his life.  I’ve been planning this departure for more than a year and have systematically acquired a sizable collection of things to feather his new nest.  

I look at these things nearly every day and check my list for more items to acquire or bits of paperwork to fill out. I’ve done it all with good cheer, as if preparing to send your only child away to college is an easy thing.  On the one hand, it is easy because I know that he is ready and he’s excited for college. He’s chosen a school where I believe he can thrive and be happy.  He’s made friends with his fellow cross country teammates and logged miles and miles of summer running in preparation for the Fall season.  He is ready.   I know that we are immeasurably blessed and I am grateful.  On the other hand, it’s like an exquisitely slow peeling off of a bandage from a wound that is remarkably tender.  I will do it on August 19 because that is the appointed day.  But I have no idea how it will feel.

My mother has offered thoughtful advice in a way that lets me know she found it hard to send me off to college all those years ago.  At that time, I didn’t see that it was hard for her.  I’m grateful for that gift.  I lack her fortitude and JT has seen my tears. I reassure him that I will be fine and I really do think I will be.  But I will miss him and the comfortable daily rhythm of our lives together.  Right now, I’m soaking it all up in the form of time in his company while I feed him a steady supply of his favorite foods.

And at the close of each day, as we are are one day closer to his departure, I listen for the sounds of his presence in our home.  I take pleasure in it, aware that the days are rapidly sliding past.  August 19 will be here before I know it.