I’m having a moment…the kind when I see my children heading out the door, and I want, desperately, to hold onto them a little longer.
As I’ve listened to Chicky pack her stuff, and as I’ve chatted with Rooster after he’s come in late from spending time with friends, my heart grows wistful, and the tears begin to flow.
How can it be that this, my third year of being the mother of college-enrolled children, is proving to be as difficult as the first year?
I cannot explain it.
It’s not as if I don’t have other activities to keep me occupied.
I am about to begin year three of teaching.
I think that as I prepare to say goodbye to Rooster for what will be his first extended absence, I am reminded of the first time I delivered Chicky to school.
Sigh…
That was a difficult adjustment.
I really do not want to go through this again.
Maybe I can blame the late hour.
Maybe it’s PMS.
More likely, I’m just another mom who loves being around her children…cannot, in fact, get enough time with them.
It’s moments like these when I wish I could stretch time…perhaps even rewind it a bit to when my babies were actually babies.
But time doesn’t stand stand still, pressing ever forward.
Meanwhile, a mama (me) goes to bed feeling bittersweet about the passage of time and the fact that there’s not one thing I can do to slow it down, pause it, or stop it completely.
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