For the past five Saturdays, I've made a trip to the airport.
Five weeks.
In a row.
I've driven there and back.
Now it's a 74 mile round-trip journey. Forty-five minutes each way if the traffic is good. Goodness only knows what if it's not.
And - full disclosure - I have not been behind the wheel every inch of those trips. I've shared driving duties with my fourth born and my husband. But I've been there in the car, clocking the travel time, brainstorming alternative routes, and otherwise cheering on the entire enterprise.
Some trips have been in daylight, others in the wee hours of night.
But all of these trips - each and every one - have trafficked in the deep emotion that always surfaces during our hellos and goodbyes.
Now, I am an experienced mom of adult children. I truly respect that they have built lives of their own that involve these comings and goings. Shoot, I moved away from my family of origin so I know from experience that there's nothing personal to these distances. Sometimes, life just beckons us to follow where it leads. I get that. And I'm good with that.
But there is a visceral pain that comes from squaring your shoulders, buttoning up your tears, and sending your daughter (or niece) off on a plane to live her own life.
Yes, she's allowed.
Yes, she's entirely capable.
Yes, she'll be back.
Still, it's hard.
So it gives me
a certain solace,
a comfort in numbers,
a sense of feeling seen,
when I visit the airport to watch the other families saying hello and goodbye, to know that we all carry a certain pain in our hearts, to accept that this process is very much a part of the human condition.
At least the postmodern human condition.
So here is my gift to you. When you find yourself in the process of saying goodbye - or hello! - to your adult children, I am with you. I will meet you at the airport and join you in all the emotions of these tender moments of hello and goodbye.
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