The big flight…

I’m not good with change.

That might be a bit of an understatement.

And…considering my life has been nothing but change in the last few years…I’ve been forced, more than once, to stand there…completely vulnerable…not having a sweet clue how to put one foot in front of the other.

The Tall Blonde moving away was way harder than I’d expected.

As my friend Victoria pointed out…all of the Septembers when we headed down the road to St. FX to start another school year, her year abroad, her living downtown this summer…all of those moments were “test flights” in anticipation for the “big flight”…when she really spread her wings and flew.

This week…was the big flight.

Literally…on a plane…to France…where a year-long contract as a teaching assistant at a High School awaits her.

I hadn’t expected it to hit as hard as it did.

I knew it was coming and yet…was blindsided by the emotion that’s consumed me.

As parents, these are the things we want for our children. These great opportunities…these wonderful adventures! This is what we aim for…what we prepare them for…what we hope for.

Then dammit…it happens.

I know I’m going to be fine. She’s going to be fine. Bones and Spiderman, Mom and Dad…we’ll all be fine. We’ll find ways to communicate and stay in touch and we’ll continue on with daily living and various activities…anticipating her arrival home this Christmas…

But that’s not the point.

Things are changing.

Again.

Faster than my little heart can handle.

You know when your kids are wee babies and people stop you in the grocery aisle and make that comment about “holding them close” and how “it doesn’t last long?”

It doesn’t last long.

It was yesterday that I brought her home from the hospital and questioned how I’d ever be able to be a good mother. Yesterday when she started primary and I wondered if I was making the right decision putting her in French Immersion with Mme. Lucile. Yesterday when I fretted over whether or not she’d fit in at High School and the IB program. Yesterday when she started university and spent a year abroad.

It was yesterday, that I sat by the phone and awaited her text to let me know she’d arrived safely…that she was greeted wonderfully by her new boss and the teachers at the school…that she was sitting in a pub anticipating the arrival of one of her very dear friends in this sweet little town…that she now, with great excitement for the adventure before her, calls home.

I’ve spent 22 years preparing for this moment…one-day-at a time, one parenting moment after another…some that were absolutely thrilling and others that were painstakingly hard. I’ve watched her turn from this tiny tot, to this gangly teen to this beautiful woman who I can now, with great admiration and respect for the person she is…call my friend.

I’ve spent 22 years preparing her to fly on her own…I just never expected to feel so alone…when she finally did.