What in the world happened this weekend that made me realize that my youngest is leaving for school in four months? I mean, I’ve known it and part of me is really looking forward to it but something clicked this weekend. Maybe it was when we were in the beauty supply store and the owner asked me, “How are you going to handle it?” I told her I’d be fine because I know that I will. I’m not the Mom who is going to crawl into a ball and be devastated. That’s not me but for whatever reason the fact that she’ll be gone in a minute hit me like a ton of bricks.
I’ve got to let go.
When I see her sitting on the couch watching Sponge Bob, I’m like, “How is this kid ready to leave for college?” Truth is I’m scared for her. I screwed up so badly my freshman year and I just don’t want that for her. I believe I’ve prepared her. We’ve talked and talked and talked. Now she has to get out of the nest and either fly or fall.
I want so badly for her to fly. To soar, in fact. I know, however that she has to want it for herself. She says she does but I suppose only time will tell.
Letting go of her is hard. I want the very best for her. I don’t want her to follow in my footsteps. I want her to be so much better. I want her to want so much more than my 17-year old self wanted. I was an idiot when I was 17. She’s not an idiot but she has an awful lot of me in her. So much that I worry.
I’m rambling and I know it. I’ve just got to let go.