Wednesday, August 3, 2016

Are You Really Not Ready?

She asks me that or something similar with increasing frequency as the summer passes, as her time living in our house full-time passes with each shortening day of sunlight, each day of work drudgery, each payment of college fees.

Two weeks today, she and I will make the trek down to school. I'll drop her off the next day, help her unpack, take her to a grocery store for supplies, maybe play the tiniest bit of PokemonGo -- who knows which ones are there! -- and then I'll make the long journey home alone. And when I arrive home, it will be to a home with one less of my peeps occupying it.

"I would think you'd be used to it, since Eldest left last year," she says.

I know what she really wants to know. So I tell her about how I had a baby and then found I was pregnant with another and I couldn't fathom being able to love that second baby as much as I loved the first. I was panicked, I said.

Just like my love grew then, my sadness grows now. I've got plenty of both to expend.

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