Happy Birthday to Kimberly, even though she won't read this. I've had a few comments and emails asking about her, and it seems her birthday is a good time talk about things a bit. She's off, you know, just as I raised her be. Off on worldwide adventures, doing her thing, giving her service, learning the ropes, seeing the world...
What was I thinking?
That's the thing about parenting, isn't it? You spend a couple of decades running as fast as you can, with your heart all tied up in knots, doing all the stuff, barely keeping up, losing all the sleep, trying to capture it all and get in as much joy as you can hold... and then, just when you thought you were getting ready to let go, to see them fly, then they go and do just that.
And it rips your guts out, right while you're celebrating with them.
My oldest daughter is off to serve a full time mission in Argentina. She will be gone for eighteen months, and out of phone and email contact for much of that time. It is awesome to see her going! It is exciting to watch her setting out, to witness her becoming and doing all the things she meant to! Wow!
But when we dropped her off at the curb, it was snowing, and her face was wet with tears and weather, and as she walked away, I couldn't take my eyes off her tiny self. She looked awfully small as she melted into the storm and disappeared, and I tried to memorize the shape of her back, the way of her walk, the color of her hair...
When my son left for Germany, it was the same. That piece of skin on the back of his neck as he went through airport security and disappeared up the escalator, it burned its way into my heart as it moved away; that little place just below his cowlick that used to be as soft as velvet and as small as my wrist.
Next, it will be Logan's turn. A few days from now, he will pack up and move away to school. Not as far as Argentina, but away. Which is excellent, of course. Which is exactly what I want him to do. But although the busy demands of all the little souls left at home will leave me little time to acknowledge it, my heart will break a little. And soar. And break. And soar.
Which, I suppose, is exactly as it should be.
But what was I thinking?
(The photos: a little painting I did the day Kimberly left. Godspeed, Sister.)
