Dear Mom of the Graduate

Dear friend,

I was you once.

I was that mom standing in the doorway of an empty nest, trying to figure out a way to keep my chicks from flying away and taking the heart of me with them.

Let’s be honest, we know our chicks have to fly. They were born to fly. They must. We are reasonable, strong, capable mothers. But something deep down inside us whispers, “Not today, kid. Stop. Sit down. Be my child. Be home. Just one more day.”

Oh my darling, today is the day. I’m not going to lie to you. The pain you are feeling in your chest will be your close companion for a while.

He poses for prom pictures and all you can see is the way he carried that giant backpack on his first day of Kindergarten. She is gripping her diploma and all you can feel is her tiny hand in yours while the rest of the world slept. A million little everyday details, scattered through the pages of your mothering journey.

And yes, those desperate, messy, infuriating, exhausting moments of motherhood are back there somewhere too; on the tear-stained pages you’ve already turned. They’re tucked in next to the sentences about dirty dishes and dirty laundry and dirty bathrooms. But even the stinky parts make you smile now.

“Tell me,” you plead, “Tell me I need to turn the page. Tell me the next chapter will fill this empty place.”

I will tell you, but you already know.

The truth is, I have navigated these waters and you will learn to do the same. You will find a way to turn this page and the next one and the one after that. Sometimes you will go back to your favorite dog-eared pages and read them and remember, and it will fill you up.

Life keeps moving, and the current carries us. It carries us forward, even when we try to swim upstream. It curves and pitches and flows towards the sunset, where our own moms and their moms are waiting for us behind the sun.

So take a deep breath, my friend. Your babies will leave now, and your heart will crack wide open.  

Around the bend are beautiful moments to be lived. But for now, take a moment and breathe. Find a slow spot in the river and turn your face to the sun. Savor every word.

And when you come to the next bend in the river, lean in and lean forward. It’s going to be a glorious ride.