Leaving

Leaving my children is akin to reaching in and removing my heart from my chest. Little wonder as I gave it to them a long time ago. Little by little, I will piece it back with phone calls, cards, letters, skype (who said all technology is bad:)), lunch or dinner with friends, reading, writing. A busy life. I will breathe again. It's not new or profound or particularly poetic, it just is.


People always told us (other parents, primarily) that we would be relieved when they left and struck out on their own. Not glad exactly, just relieved. Unfortunately it was not so. We enjoy their company. Always have. We raised them to be independent, opinionated, intelligent, strong and thinking individuals. It is no surprise that they soared with delight and freedom when the time came. So I think we did our job, if not well, then at least with gratitude that we didn't screw up too much. But with their freedom comes the wrenching of the tearing cords. The silken, spider-silk-strong cords that must break to allow them autonomy.


With wings released, soar my Darlings, soar.