It’s happening. Dear Readers in eight days I will be an empty nester, a bird launcher, a mother of two “grown men”. The first time around I couldn’t stop crying. This time around I mostly walk around in a fog of senior moments (his and mine—don’t you love the word play?). I literally feel numb to all that is happening.

The senior class trip begins today. Why is motherhood a continuous loop of being left behind? It seems like from the time a child figures out movement, they are continually launching themselves away from you. First steps. First days. First camp out. First sleepover. First car. First date. I am never going to get used to being left behind for someone or something else, even though that ability to leave me has been the goal from the beginning.

I am paralyzed with the shock of it. I cannot feel happy or sad. I wish for the release of tears knowing I would feel better, but tears won’t come. This is a new feeling. I do not like it and I do not want to be here anymore.

I cannot decide if it is the combination of knowing and not knowing, or age. I have done all of this before with big bother. However, no two kids are the same and mine are as different as the sun and the moon—so there is an element of how will this time go? I am older and tired in a different way now. I go to bed at 9:00. I cannot remember the last time I waited up for my child. I never would have gone to bed before his brother came home. Now, I just leave the porch light on and go to bed. What has happened to me?

I wish I had answers. I wish I could finish this blog post neatly with a bow and tell you everything is alright. It is not alright. I want my buddy back. I don’t want him to go. He is so ready, but I am not. Oh. Here are those tears. I truly thought I might be a zombie. Sniff. Wipe. Sniff. I’ll write again soon.

Love y’all and him so big,

Marla