When my son Rocky went to college 5 years ago, his leaving home was a gradual thing. First he went to the local community college and then to a nearby university where he finished up. And he lived the first year at home. Last summer he moved very far away for graduate school. We’re talking, thousands of miles away. Like, from Vermont to California. It was hard, but not that hard. We had eased into it and he was 23 years old. It was time.
Fast forward to last week, my daughter Petunia went to college far, far away right off the bat. She hates the snowy northeast and decided to follow her brother to sunny CA. To the same school, in fact, though it’s not because he is there, and she wants to make sure the entire known world is clear on that. We flew her out there, set her up in her cell-like freshman dorm room, and then said good-bye, knowing we won’t see her again until Christmas.
If you ask me, I like the first option better – the gradual method. But no one asked me. Such is the life of an empty next mom.