I'm starting to get used to it. It's still kind of new and it still doesn't quite fit right. But it's not as heavy and it's maybe even starting to fit a little bit with the rest of what I know. I am almost starting to like it:
Having an adult child.
Even that doesn't make any sense.
But that's what it is.
This morning my son was at a loss as to what he should do with his morning. Usually he's eating breakfast and making his lunch--but today the youth group at his church is having a youth conference about food, and they all agreed to fast until tonight. So this morning he was chatty. And excited. I had so little idea about what was happening with his afternoon. He's planned it as part of the hosting congregation, he'll drive himself there and since they're covenanted to sleep at this con, he'll drive himself home. He's 18. He's finishing high school at the community college, he's the head math tutor at the college so he's got a half time job and is staff at the college. Yes, he still lives here, but this year it's become very different. He's an adult. And our child.
He's gone for the weekend. He's happy. And I'm happy for him. And while I still miss him when he's gone for a long time, it's not the same. I guess we're starting to let go. Of course we have to, it's the way things go. It's for the best. And it is starting to feel normal.