Endings and Beginnings

This is a post I've been working on in my head for months, but now that I finally have time to write I can't remember all the profound ways I was going to say. (Actually, I think that my words sound kind of whiny, but they are my thoughts and this is my personal history, so I'm going to say them anyway.)

In a few short weeks we will be dropping Aubrey off at college. We have a mountain of stuff in Bailey's old bedroom which is being sorted and packed for her new home in a college dorm. This is such a great thing, and the very opportunity that we have hoped and prayed for. Dan and I take seriously our job of preparing our kids to enter the world to be responsible and caring adults, and we are so happy when they are able to move on from our home to new adventures.

But, it's so, so sad to experience and anticipate the empty places in our home left by each child who leaves. The other day I was straightening shoes in the mudroom and I stopped to count how many were Aubrey's. Soon, there will be lots of empty space in the mudroom for shoes belonging to me, Dan, and Joseph. There will also be empty shelves and a lack of piano music playing and no musicals being sung in the bathroom. There will no longer be anyone in the house who wants to watch chick flicks or go on power walks with me. Her room will be left with the bare minimum of things which didn't make the cut for college, but aren't quite ready to be thrown away. 

This has happened twice before, and it was just as hard. Each time one of our kids has moved out, the structure of the family has shifted and slowly settled into a new rhythm, one which involves lots of contact by phone and text, but one in which the kids are rarely physically in the home. 

And this is sad, because I love having my kids nearby, laughing and talking and making messes. OK, the messes aren't my very favorite, but they are proof that life is happening. I have loved the opportunity to serve them in all the little things a mother can do to smooth the ways of life. Now my help will mostly be over the phone and through fervent prayers.

This is what needs to happen, and I accept that. But I will allow myself to feel the loss of their presence, because being present and available has been my focus in mothering, and my ability to be physically available for my kids is diminishing as they become adults. Aubrey has life changing discoveries to make about herself in the coming years, and I'm excited for her new beginnings. I wouldn't change a thing, but I'll miss her.

And finally, I dedicate these sentimental song lyrics to the way I'm feeling lately. (I just might have looked up every sappy song on Spotify about kids growing up and leaving).

Here's to you, you were pink or blue
And everything I wanted.
Here's to you, never sleeping through
From midnight till the morning.
Had to crawl before you walked, before you ran, 
Before I knew it you were trying to free your fingers from my hand
'Cause you could do it on your own now,
Somehow.

Here's to you, every missing tooth, every bedtime story.
Here's to Barbie cars, light saber wars, sleeping in on Sunday.
Had to crawl before you walked, before you ran, 
Before I knew it, you were teaching me the only thing love can, hold hands through it.
When it's scary, you've got me.

But slow down, won't you stay here a minute more?
I know you want to walk through the door,
But it's all too fast, let's make it last a little while.
I pointed to the sky, and now you want to fly.
I am your biggest fan, 
I hope you know I am. 
But do you think you could somehow
Slow down?

Please don't roll your eyes at me, 
I know I'm embarrassing,
But someday you'll understand,
You'll hold a little hand,
Ask them if they can
Slow down.

(For the record, I don't actually want Aubrey to slow down. I just want time to slow down. The years are passing too quickly!)