Empty Nest

It feels so normal today.
Even though it's so far from normal.
My older son is on his lap-top in the living room. My younger son is splayed out on the sofa, chatting with his older brother. The radio's on.
I'm in the kitchen. My husband's at work, but he'll be back later.
This is what life was like for years. Some variation of this.
Although in another locale. In another house.
The four of us.
That's why it's comforting. I know it. I'm used to it, even with its struggles. I like it. Everyone's close by, to be protected.
But it's all coming to an end tomorrow.
My younger son is flying back to the States. When I suggested he could actually stay another couple days, since school doesn't start for almost two weeks, he replied, "I gotta go home, mom."
We looked at each other.
"D.C. still's home for me, mom," he said.
Neither of us knew what to say after that. He'll stay with a friend for a couple days before heading back to his college town in South Carolina for his last semester of college.
My older son is moving to Italy in five days. He's thinking it's going to be for awhile. He's hoping anyway.
He lived here with us for three months. I was worried about what he would do here, but the truth is, he did just great.
He had fun at his internship; he jumped in with both feet.
The other day he likened his sojourn here with us to a semester abroad. It was about the same length, I guess.
College is over, honey, I reminded him.
You know what I mean, he said.
Yeah, I do actually.
Kids are only loaned to you.
I know that.
I've told friends that.
But letting go hurts.
And every time you get them back -- even for just awhile -- you get to go through it all again.