My head is filled with a thousand emotions–each doing another kind of crazy dance. We’ve got the Samba happening, and a whole area of Disco. We have versions of the Watusi, the Twist, the Bugaloo and the Nae Nae. We have Square Dancing. We’ve got the Macarena, the Salsa, the freaking Frug. It’s a mad house party.
My daughter is leaving for college at the end of the month. My son who was home for the summer, is leaving next week. We will go from four to two. Yup, the classic empty nest syndrome is about to envelope my house.
The feathers are flying.
While hundreds of thousands of people do this every year, I have to tell you that it’s kind of a big deal.
I remember when Jake was about a month old and realizing the impact of his arrival. I vividly recall thinking to myself, “18 years. You will be doing this for 18 years before you can go out for recess.” After working and not being a mom until I was 35, I felt a certain kind of confinement I had never known when that boy came into my life. It took me some time to understand and embody this new role. But then you fall in love with your baby and you hope you never have to give them up to adulthood.
But time does its thing, and you do. You do have to give over your kids to the adult world. You do have to let them begin their own journeys, far and wide. And what you are left with is another new role. Of course, you know this role, but you haven’t practiced its script in a long time. You need to study your lines. You need to remember how to play this part.
But the dancing emotions are taking up a lot of space in my head. They’re making me tired and scared. Worst of all, they’re starting to make me cry. It must be all that exercise. Maybe it’s just sweat.
When Ally walks out the door, it will not just be a new experience for her, it will be a new experience for me. I resort to my go to: “If other people can do it, I can do it.” (Or anyway, I hope so.)