The nest empties...

This coming Saturday, my youngest will move into his college dorm to begin his freshman year at Whitworth College in Spokane, WA. I've been through this twice before. Fourteen years ago, my oldest son went into the Air Force at about this same time of year. Seven years ago, my daughter married her high school sweetheart and moved into an apartment to begin their life together. You'd think I'd be used to this inevitable occurrence. But this time it's a little different.

When the oldest left, we all cried and thought life would never be the same (it wasn't). But we still had two kids at home - one 14 years-old, one 4 years-old - so life was still pretty hectic; the house was still noisy. Life returned to its normal routine a few weeks later. A few months after he left for basic training, our son was stationed at Fairchild AFB in Spokane, WA - only 90 minutes away. He started coming home every three or four days. His schedule was such that he worked 3 days, had two off, worked 4 days, had 3 off, so he came home on all his days off for quite a while - until he made some friends on the base. Eventually his visits became fewer and farther between - as they should have. By then, we'd grown accustomed to his absence. Knowing he was close enough to visit as often as we wanted made things a lot easier. We had moved into the next phase of parenting. We had a grown up son with a life of his own now.

Our daughter lived at home while she and her boyfriend attended junior college for two years. By the time she graduated from junior college, it was time for her to move into her own place. We were all ready. She moved in with her brother in Spokane for a few months. Once the wedding date was set and we began planning for it, she got an apartment here in town. Since she lived right in town not far from where I worked or where her little brother went to school, we didn't ever go through the grieving process we went through with her older brother. The youngest stopped by to visit her after school almost daily. We all had dinner together regularly. They now own a house here in town and we continue to spend a great deal of time with them.

But Jonathan is the baby. For the past 7 years it's been the three of us - Jonathan, his dad, and me. We spend a lot of time together. We take vacations together (Jonathan is a great person to travel with), we go to movies together, we just hang out and watch TV together. We have scintillating conversations on all sorts of topics, from politics to computers, music to movies, and more. Oh, to be sure, he can be a real pill, as teenagers often can, but more often than not, he's great to have around. He's the one person who can get his dad laughing when he's in a bad mood. He's tender-hearted, loving, caring, and bright. He's my baby. I thought I was prepared for his departure - excited for him even. And I am. But yesterday, as we set out to do something fun the last weekend he would be home, my husband's mood turned dark. He was snappish and distant. I had no idea what he was upset about. Finally, he sat talking to Jonathan as we waited to go into the movie theater, tears welling up in his eyes. I realized that Jonathan's leaving was getting to him. Jonathan confirmed this a little later, telling me his dad had told him it was going to be a lot harder than he had thought and that he had to promise to visit often in the beginning. I was still holding up well - until this morning. My husband called me at work asking where Jonathan was. Then he got quiet, his voice broke, and he said "I'm not looking forward to this week. This is going to be a lot harder than I thought it would be." At that point, I started crying. He's right. It's going to be so weird not being able to walk into Jonathan's room and see him sitting at his computer; not being able to give him a kiss goodnight every night; not waking him up for work or school in the morning. It's going to be so weird. I know I'll survive. We all will. But the house will be much too quiet - and clean. Food will likely rot in the refrigerator because he won't be here to eat it. The cat will wander aimlessly through the house searching for her "boy". I will feel so alone when I get home from work and find the house empty. I will miss my baby, my son. Thankfully, he will only be 90 minutes away, but he won't ever be living here at home permanently again. My baby is a young man, heading out into the world to start his life as an adult. It seems only yesterday he was a toddler, smothering me with sticky kisses or reading along in his favorite book with me. Now he's a 6'2" young man going off to college. Where did the years go?