“There is something about poems that is like loving children: they keep returning home and singing to you all your life." --Felice Holman
Saturday, August 16, 2014
After spending a couple of weeks at home between the end of summer session and the beginning of the fall semester, my youngest child just pulled away from the curb and is headed back to Syracuse. She's been home off and on since May, but now she's leaving for the long haul. I thought saying goodbye to my kids would get easier. I thought after so much practice, I'd get better at it or I'd develop a tolerance for it. But as soon as I came back inside after waving goodbye, I felt the familiar ache. The house suddenly seemed big and quiet and empty. And although we were together, my husband and I both felt lost and sad and lonely. It's not just because she's the youngest and will be the farthest away. The same thing happens when my middle child and his sweet girl drive off after spending a weekend with us. I even feel little echoes of it when my oldest and his pup leave the house after having dinner here on an ordinary weeknight. Maybe the reason you never get good at saying goodbye to your children is because you never stop missing them. You never stop wanting to hear their familiar voices and see their sweet faces. And maybe I will just have to live with that.