I am beginning to look into the abyss of change. All around me it is beginning, moving inexorably forward completely out of my control. It is starting as a trickle like a small mountain stream but already I hear the rumbles of white water ahead.
She has one foot out the door and is not looking back. I hear her speaking of her new life away from me, one in which I will play only a small, far away role. Realizing that sooner than later I will not wake up to see her every day, we will not say goodnight to each other every night, I will not hear the question are you going to take a shower first of should I.
Soon she will be a distant voice on the phone, a blinking message in my email box, the occasional card in the mail.
But this is how it’s supposed to be isn’t it? They are with you for a time and then you set them free to fly the nest, to create a nest of their own, to have adventures near and far, to make their mark in the world.
I have known this intuitively since I carried her in my womb, I have pontificated about this since I first held her in my arms. I know this. So why is it feeling like a complete surprise to me now?
We are approaching the finish line, making the final preparations, crossing the t’s and dotting the i’s, getting her ducks in a row and every other cliché one can think of, each step getting closer to the final take off and I find myself hanging on for dear life.
How does one gracefully step out of the way? How does one untie that very last knot on the apron? How does one stand at the front door smiling, waving and saying good bye and watching them sail off into uncharted territory?
I guess you take a deep breath, untie that knot and know that you’ve done your job. There is a saying in knitting that says “Trust the pattern”. I guess in this case I have to trust the job I’ve done and the choices I’ve made and trust that she is ready for the world.