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She finally got into college, but I'm not ready for her to leave!

Pop the champagne, celebrate all the hard work that it took for her to get here. I am bursting with pride at how much she has grown. I am proud that she knew her mind, I am proud of her steadfast and consistent approach to this search and her own personal growth.

She put in the time, saw the school, understood that it was a fit, crafted her stellar essay, and put her best foot forward in a way that the school was able to see her true self and potential, and it worked. She got in.

After the donning of the obligatory sweatshirt and reveling in the news it took me about a week before it completely registered that in the fall she will be leaving me.

For this, I need to rely on the advice of friends and family that have already been through this. One cherished friend readily admitted that for at least a couple of weeks it might feel as if an arm is missing.

Will it be an arm for me? Or will it be a shoulder that feels cold, or a foot that refuses to move?

These past few months of remote learning, scaled back activities and daily onslaught of bad news have only been tempered by my gratefulness of having more time with her. She wasn’t always running off to see a friend, or bogged down with homework, there was time for everything. There was time to bake together, work in the garden, and just sit and talk and laugh at our ridiculous puppy.

In a few months, as we adapt to a new normal and new level of activity, my life will be smaller and probably more lonely. But as I get used to the quieter house, I will do my best to remember that I’ve done my job well when she learns to fly, and she can’t fly from the nest.

Raise high, my wild child. Go live, and love, and write your own story.

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