Trusting that my kid doesn’t read my blog (she thinks it’s weird that I have one), I write:
I sit here amidst unusual clutter in my office (I’m re-organizing some files, and I hit a wall this afternoon in the midst of several darkest-just-before-dawn piles… so they aren’t likely to get put away in this day’s life), and I’m tired. I feel the need for a nap like I haven’t slept for days. Perhaps it’s because just about an hour ago the kid bought the plane ticket that will in several weeks lift her above the planet and across an ocean where she will seek another homeland for a third of a year.
This has been — is — the summer of out-of-nest-pushing, and growing up… as much for me as for the kid.
So far, so good.
But for some reason, once the last button was pushed and the plane ticket official… well, I could have laid right down and gone fast to sleep.
Letting go takes a lot of work!
Or, maybe, it’s the holding on I’ve done till now that has taken so much energy.