Moving Day!

The day had arrived. "The girls" (my daughters have put up with that term most of their lives, being lumped together like the cliche-ish two peas in a pod) have moved out into their own place. After weeks of anticipation and days of preparation, the alarms went off at 6:00 a.m. on Saturday and we all crawled out of bed and began the final car-loading, last minute packing, and pet catching.

Life in a Box -- skillets, yoga mat, music stand, picture frame, heating pad

Ash and Lys were in good spirits, I was simply relieved that we had the foresight to do most of the prep before Saturday morning dawned. By 8:30 Lys and her bunny Penny were on the road to their new place. The plan was that she would go up first in order to open the gates and doors in the event the moving truck beat us up there. Ash and I would stay behind to supervise the movers, who were scheduled to arrive between 8 and 10 a.m. At 8:45 they called and said to expect them between 10 and 10:30. With cat Serena bellowing from the pet carrier, we decided that Ash should also head on up and let Serena out of her misery.

So I waited. Alone. For the first time in almost three decades I'll be living alone. Will I find new pursuits? Will I simply enjoy the solitude after busy work days? Will I find a new purpose or re-dedicate myself to old interests? I picked up a broom and began sweeping. There is a quiet peace in the swishing of the broom on the wood floor. Visions of all the people I've observed sweeping went through my head. My sister Linda sweeping -- telling me how after living overseas she observed many European women keeping such tidy homes. The school girls in Kenya -- sweeping the school steps with shrub branches. My mom -- sweeping the back patio off in the cool mornings, lost in her own thoughts. I remembered a quote about how it was easier to envision Jesus sweeping the streets than delivering a severe edict from the palace steps. Gentle, quiet movement is soothing.

Then the movers arrived and from then on there was no stopping! I showed them where things were -- the old sofa, the bookcases, the boxes, the TV -- until the truck was loaded. Then they left, with me following in my car for our trek to the City.

The move went smoother than we could ever hope for. Beds were delivered and set up by the mattress company, the internet service guy showed up promptly, the movers arrived and unloaded everything in record time. Ash and Lys were in charge -- "Put that here, just set that there". I was proud, amazed, awed by their poise and independence.

I confess I cried a bit when it was time to hug them goodbye and leave. Although Ash had lived away before, to have both of them "launched" on their own, knowing it's time to let go, made me realize that 90% of my parenting work is now done. I'll always be there to guide them, help them, answer questions for them, but I have to trust that they'll do the right thing and handle every day life on their own now. I'll miss them, but this is what parenting is all about. And truly my heart is bursting with joy for them.

Empty Nest Horizon

Five days until the girls move into their own apartment in another city. For the past two decades I've been a part of their every day lives, nurturing, loving, guiding them into adulthood. I wouldn't want it any other way but for them to have become the strong, independent women that they are. Ash has lived on her own before, all the way across the Atlantic. They are smart, savvy. I remind myself that they will do fine. The past week I've immersed myself in lists. Lists of what they'll need in their new home. To-do lists involving collecting moving boxes and lists of places we needed to call (turn on PG&E in their name, line up renter's insurance...). The clerks in Target's check-out line have become my new best friends. Shopping has kept me occupied so I don't have to think about how much I'm going to miss them. Hey, I picked up a vaccum cleaner for you! Look, I thought you girls could use a handled sponge for your kitchen sink. It's my last stab at anticipating their daily needs. Habits are hard to break.

My daughters were part of the Disney movie generation -- back when Disney made classic literature come to life in fantastic animation, such as Aladdin, Beauty and the Beast, and Tarzan. There is a song I love from Tarzan, sung by Phil Collins, describing how I felt when they were small (though I think they will probably have to sing the first two lines to me, rather than the other way around now). Here 'tis -- dedicated to my beautiful daughters.

"You'll Be In My Heart"

Come stop your crying
It will be all right
Just take my hand
Hold it tight

I will protect you
from all around you
I will be here
Don't you cry

For one so small,
you seem so strong
My arms will hold you,
keep you safe and warm
This bond between us
Can't be broken
I will be here
Don't you cry

'Cause you'll be in my heart
Yes, you'll be in my heart
From this day on
Now and forever more

You'll be in my heart
No matter what they say
You'll be here in my heart, always

Why can't they understand
the way we feel
They just don't trust
what they can't explain
I know we're different but,
deep inside us
We're not that different at all

And you'll be in my heart
Yes, you'll be in my heart
From this day on
Now and forever more

Don't listen to them
'Cause what do they know
We need each other,
to have, to hold
They'll see in time
I know

When destiny calls you
You must be strong
I may not be with you
But you've got to hold on
They'll see in time
I know
We'll show them together

'Cause you'll be in my heart
Yes, you'll be in my heart
From this day on,
Now and forever more

Oh, you'll be in my heart
No matter what they say
You'll be in my heart, always
Always

Just look over your shoulder,
Just look over your shoulder,
Turn around and look over your shoulder.
I'll be there always.

If you would like to hear the song, just click the pause button (looks like ll) on the Playlist on the right side of my blog. Then click the play arrow button below.