Yesterday morning I went grocery shopping. My husband and I arrived home from San Francisco Monday night, picked up our younger two children from my sister's house and came home to an empty refrigerator. We also came home with four people rather than five, because we had just moved our oldest child to college.
Shopping for groceries, I thought of this change. With our biggest eater away at college and not packing school lunches anymore, the things in my cart were a bit different. As I was checking out, I vaguely heard from another checkout lane the sound of a crying baby whose mom was trying to comfort her. I later saw that mom in the parking lot loading her groceries into the back of her car, with a baby in the front carrier and a toddler in the shopping cart seat. I quickly put my own groceries in the back of the van and returned my shopping cart. The mom of the littles was heading to return her own cart, and I offered to take it for her. I remembered shopping with two or three little ones in tow, toting them along in a combination of carrier or backpack and shopping cart. I said to her "It's hard to shop with little ones. You're doing a good job, mama." We smiled at each other and went our separate ways.
I returned to my car full of emotion. Because here's what I didn't say:
It goes so fast. Too fast. Appreciate these times. I just dropped off my oldest son at college a couple thousand miles away, and my heart is full of. Full of...pride, sadness, excitement, worry, joy. All those things jumbled together.
All those things jumbled together... Earlier this summer, I was quickly flipping through photos for a poster the night before my son's graduation party. I came across this one. He's about a year and a half old. The stuffed monkey pre-dates the little boy. It was a gift from my sister when she and my mom visited me in Guatemala when I had surgery there. I don't remember when or how the boy and the monkey became acquainted. There were other stuffed animals in the house, which he received as gifts before and after his birth. But for some reason, this was the one. We named him Georgie, after the storybook character Curious George. The little boy carried Georgie with him just about everywhere during his toddler years, and then slept with him in his bed or kept him in his room for many years afterward.
Georgie eventually ended up in a basket full of stuffed animals in the basement. Feeling sentimental about my son's upcoming move, I went to look for Georgie a couple of weeks ago. I brought him upstairs. Georgie has all the signs of being a well-loved stuffed animal. The ear that was rubbed for comfort is worn, as are patches of "fur" where he was hugged and cuddled. A couple of days after I brought Georgie upstairs, he disappeared. The boy, now a young man, had taken him to his room.
The days before taking our son to college were filled with lots of activity - packing, a family dinner, goodbyes to friends-family-coworkers, paperwork, and preparation for the trip. In a flurry, with little time for reflection, we boarded our plane on Thursday morning. The plane was full, and the three of us were unable to sit together. Alone at my window seat, I put some photos of family and friends into a small album for my son. Finally able to sit and think a bit, tears streamed down my face. I didn't dare engage in conversation with the couple sitting next to me. I was too emotional for that.
The weekend was full of visiting with my cousin and her family (the lovely people with whom we stayed!), exploring San Francisco, moving our son into the dorms and attending orientation events. It was truly a wonderful weekend. On Sunday, while my son and husband attended one orientation workshop, I attended another. My workshop ended early, and I took a few moments to write a "quick" letter to my son. It ended up being nearly three pages. The time of our parting was Sunday evening, and we all felt the inevitable approaching. Then we did it - the three of us shared our goodbyes, full of emotion and assured of each other's love. The next morning my husband and I boarded our plane for home. I cried once again as the plane took off.
You will think I am terribly sad. I am certainly a little bit sad, but also full of other emotions. I am so proud of my son who is spreading his wings in the way that he has chosen for himself. And I'm excited for the opportunities before him. I'm incredibly grateful and happy for the amazing journey of being his mom and watching him grow. Tears flow from feeling all of those things deeply too.
And so four of us returned home to our house in Milwaukee Monday night. We all caught up on our five days apart. On Tuesday, groceries were picked up and laundry was washed. Later in the day, I looked in on my son's room. He admitted he had left it a mess in the midst of last minute packing, so I wasn't surprised. The room is littered with the stereotypical detritus of a teenage boy's life. The clothes he decided to leave behind are flung about. Crumpled school papers, a CD, a jar full of change and a crusty cereal bowl and spoon are crowded among other things on the desk. A bath towel is flung over the chair. The bed is unmade. But sitting very neatly on the pillow at the top of the bed is Georgie. And, oh my heart, I think...he's always there for you. Just like we are. Happy for you and missing you and figuring out how to adjust to you being so far away. And here for you. Always.
