As my last child approaches graduation and heads for college, I am afraid that when she leaves I will just collapse. I went from that pregnant woman to a mother of three. The house was chaotic. They ran all around the house, participating in school theater and music (Katie) and playing baseball (Ben and Joe). The rides, the fights, the sunflowers spilling from the pockets of baseball pants, the costumes, the ice cream trips, and the wonderful moments where I wasn't exhausted and they all got along.
One left, then the other. It was hard to see them go, but at least there was one left. I know, this is great: They are successful well-rounded really nice kids. This is how I brought the up to be, right up to the part when they spread their wings and fly. But it's not totally true. I basically did not bring them up to leave. I had them for my enjoyment. Well, of course, I knew they would leave. But the time seemed so far away, I thought it never would come. I was too busy pulling Legos out of my feet.
Katie and I have spent the past few weeks looking at the mail for either a big envelope (good) or a little one (rejection). She's just about done with her college search. She is trying to decide between two excellent choices. It's been stressful.
On top of it is the busy-bodies with their prediction of my desolation. Some say, "I know we've already talked about it, but I still keep thinking about how sad you'll be when Katie goes away." Some just point it out as though it's a new thought for them.
I have no wall against this. So then, the wood planks on the floor sound creakier each time I step on certain ones. The house feels emptier. Bad idea to live through tomorrow's problems today, so I should stop. Hopefully, I will be busier and get my activities back.
I told the person who last brought it up that I am certain I will go to bed, pull my covers over my head and become a recluse who depends on food brought in occasionally.
Let's hope I was wrong.