By Megan Hollinger 
We dropped our firstborn son off at college two weeks ago. It may as well have been two years ago because that is how it feels. It is only an hour away. It may as well be Siberia because that is how it feels. He is doing great, I think.
We text, and I am using the word “we” very loosely here. It goes something like this: I text him four rapid-fire questions; he replies to one with a one-word answer (that could really apply to any of the four questions I originally asked). Thus, I know basically nothing about this new life he is living. At least, that is how it feels.
We have four kids. Seventy-five percent of them are still at home. His 13-year-old sister has started parenting me, saying things like: Mom, this is only temporary. Mom why don’t you give him a day break from texting. Mom, I am a little scared for you when both boys go away to college next year, Mom this is not normal behavior.
I wish people could see how I feel on the inside by looking at my outside, but apparently, they cannot. And then they talk to me like everything is just normal and fine when in reality, the earth is off its axis. Maybe not the entire earth, but my world is off its axis. At least, that is how it feels.
But with all that being said, I find I am more uncomfortable and uneasy with our new normal than I am sad. He was ready.
I think I am exactly where I am supposed to be? My job is to drop back while he sprints forward, while still keeping my arm outstretched in case he needs to reach back and grab on. Right? At least, that is what all of you who have done this before tell me.
It is really hard to be sad when your child is genuinely happy. A picture really can speak a thousand words. Or in this case, just one: happy.
(P.S. He was in charge of the decorations for his dorm room.)
Originally published on the author’s Facebook page
by Heather Duckworth 
by Kelly Richardson 
by Her View From Home 
