Eldest's departure for his freshman year of college coincided with the arrival of a long-lost friend in town to drop off her first-born son to college here. Two old ladies weeping about the loss of their children. It was both massively sad and outright hilarious at the same time. [All of which reminds me of high school days of us saying, "GYHTBT." That's pronounced ga-hid-bit. And it's an acronym from my youth: Guess You Had To Be There.]
Amy-of-the-Woods came to town and related what the dean said at the parent orientation session at her son's school. He was advocating for the parents to let the kids make their way on their own. Don't make them check in regularly. Don't contact them all the time. Don't try to find their way for them.
That really stuck with me. I hold it up as the mantra of my life without them here. It's not that I don't reach out to them from time-to-time. Hell, I troll Le Daughter, now in her freshman year at college, with pictures of me in front of crepe trucks and bunny rabbits. I troll Eldest as much, sharing photos of Pete's famous sausage rolls and the like.
I think of them all the time. I wonder what they're doing. I wonder how they're doing. I wonder if Eldest is as outraged at the hits that keep coming from he-who-shall-not-be-named. VOTUS! I look at the weather and wonder if Le Daughter has made her way to Disneyland yet again. Have they made progress in the romance department? Are classes interesting? What's the best Pokemon she's caught? Does he feel like he's in better shape now that he rides his bike everywhere? Is she buying the fruit we told her to get every week?
I guess I'll just have to give into my inner Mick and go back in time when, presumably, my own mother might have missed me. Here's not Bruce.