Oh, the college drop-off.
They said it would be emotional, that I’d cry.
I admit I’m a bit dramatic, crying during commercials and certain Olympic sports. I wear my feelings like a Coco Chanel little black dress — timeless, simple, and fit for any occasion.
They said it was like leaving a limb behind.
Together, we prepared for this move, shopping online, planning order pickups once we were in New York, seeking out doctors, nearby Targets, ensuring she had rain and eventually snow gear. Our daughter was beyond excited and ready to go it alone.
They said it would be bittersweet.
When I left my firstborn in her dorm room Labor Day weekend, it was hurried, hot, and sweaty.
They said it would be hard to say goodbye.
Our daughter was exhausted from an extended orientation weekend, and despite her usually sweet demeanor, she couldn’t get rid of us fast enough. My husband and I were now standing outside our daughter’s building, and all I could say was, “that’s it?”
They said it doesn’t hit you until later.
On our flight home, I was bracing for the tears to come, tissues in my pocket. But none came, not even happy tears.
They said going back to our house without her would be strange.
I walked in the front door and smiled, knowing she was living somewhere else with so many adventures in front of her.
Our daughter is now 2,916 miles away.
I don’t remember them saying all would be right with the world, but it is.
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