I was her primary mode of transportation and it made for some valuable one-on-one time in the car that I came to treasure. Until August 1. She got her driver’s license that day and suddenly she didn’t need my driving services anymore. Now it’s just a text message to tell me where she is and where she will go next.
That hit me hard. I thought I had two more years to finish the letting go process; it never occurred to me that it must start now.
She sets her own alarm to wake up so I really don’t have to get up in the morning. But I want to hug her, watch her leave and remind her that I love her.
She can make her own lunch, but I do that, too, because when she sits down to eat I want her to remember that someone knows just how she likes her peanut butter and jelly and whether or not she is tired of carrots and ranch dip.
And even though it’s just the three of us, we eat together around the table as much as her schedule allows, because Jim and I want her to know that even if she is our only child at home, she is still worth setting the table for.
For the next two years, I’m going to let go where I must and hold on where I can.