My older d is off on a class trip. She’ll be away for several nights. This morning I stood on the porch and waved while she walked with her friend, knapsack on her back, dufflebag in one hand, small suitcase on wheels in the other. She looked back several times, a big smile on her face. I confess: there were tears in my eyes; there are tears in my eyes as I write this. It was all I could do not to break down and blubber.
When I got to the top of the stairs, A was waiting to put his arms around me. He said, “I hear report that you got weepy.” Younger d had told on me, and I sank into his shoulders, laughing and crying at the same time. Then I went to the bathroom to wash my face. But the bathroom is my favourite blubbering place, so I sat on the toilet and cried some more in private. I thought, “I had to be the first one to hold my children, and I will be the last one to see them off and wave goodbye.”
There–I am blubbering again.