Most mornings I rise early, happy to start the day as or before the sun rises. My eyes pop open, and my mind engages– planning, listing, and organizing. I roll out of bed and pad out into the kitchen, ready to enjoy the early morning solitude. On this past Sunday morning, however, I lingered in bed. I rolled over and tugged the covers tighter around me. I kept my eyes shut. Tight. I didn’t want to get up. I was not ready.
Over the last week or so, the pace had revved up–a bit faster each day. The long, lazy days of summer were fading fast and Sunday seemed to delineate, much too clearly, the end of summer and the beginning of too many changes. It was the day I had to drive my daughter back to college. It’s her Junior year, so I should be accustomed to her absence. But I’ve grown accustomed to her presence again this summer–to small conversations, shared outings, casual hugs and sweet proximity. I’m just not ready to send her back.
Her departure was the first scheduled and the harbinger of more to come. Staying in bed felt like my only defense, pitiful though it was. The week loomed ahead of me: On Monday I would have my first meeting of the school year. On Tuesday I needed to work in my classroom. Wednesday and Thursday are scheduled professional days. And on Friday…well, on Friday I take my oldest and my youngest to school. My son for his last year and my daughter for her first. I’ve had an amazing summer from start to finish and feel refreshed and energized. I’m ready to go back to school, but I’m not so ready to let my children go. I’m just not ready.
So, on Sunday, I lingered in bed, trying to deny the inevitable for as long as I could. Needless to say, it didn’t work. I finally got up, helped my daughter load up the car, and drove her to school. We chatted about this and that, unpacked, shopped, unpacked again and then went out to lunch. I enjoyed every minute of it.
But then I had to leave her there. And when I dropped her off outside her new apartment, she hugged me tightly and said, “I’m gonna miss you, Mommy.”
“Me, too,” I said, “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” She turned and walked away, strong, young and dazzling, and as I got back in the car to head home, she looked back and waved again. My heart clenched and my eyes filled. God, I love that child.
I don’t know how I’m going to get out of bed on Friday.
Nix the comfort zone 
We still have 6 short years before sending out daughter off to college. I joke that I’ll be throwing a party while my hubby is curled up in the fetal position crying. But I know I will miss her like crazy!
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I have always predicted that my husband would have a harder time with the empty nest–I’m now rethinking that position! Thanks for reading and commenting.
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Tears in my eyes because I walked in your shoes this past week too with my own daughter. Nothing is sweeter than still be called Mommy. Somehow we will adjust and move on – one small step at a time.
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Thanks, Amy. I know it will be fine, but it is definitely going to be an adjustment. What year is your daughter?
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This is such a touching Slice. It feels especially poignant to me since I watched my daughter get on the bus for the first time and go to kindergarten. I just know, soon, I’ll be in your shoes. In the blink of an eye…
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Thanks, Dana. I still remember sending my oldest off to Kindergarten on the bus. Talk about an emotional moment!
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Oh, how sad.
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I am sad, Sue, but there are so many other feelings as well, and they aren’t all sad. As Ramona commented: “dueling emotions”.
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It is so hard to see them walk away, but we want them to take flight too. Dueling emotions. I always tried to leave before my tears started. Letting go is never easy, even though it’s what we want for them. I love your title of this slice – I’m Not Ready.
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Thanks, Ramona. You’re right about the dueling emotions! I’m excited for my children and proud of them, and they know that. I’m also, on some level, intrigued to see what opportunities arise for me as my world changes. That level is a bit subdued right now but I’m reminding myself frequently that it is still there! This is all such a seismic change though!
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You’ve created quite a family! You’ve earned your blessings.
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Thanks, Dan.
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