He was home! As he walked in the door, I breathed a sigh of relief. I had followed his trip progress for two days on the family tracking app we all shared, his little car icon moving slowly through the web of roads that would bring him back to us for Christmas break.
That first year of college had been a roller coaster of emotions, and suddenly with him home, all felt right with my world. But over the next few days, the realization dawned on me. Our home had become not as much his home anymore.
There was no doubt he loved being home, but he also loved his new life. His new friends. He had already made so many new memories that were no longer centered around parents and siblings and, well, home. He was becoming a visitor.
At first, I wanted to fight this idea. “This will always be his home! He will always have a place here! My child will never be a visitor.” And in a small way, I knew that was true. Our doors would always be open to him. But the reality now was that his wings were spread and he had taken flight. After all, this was the goal all along, wasn’t it? For the baby bird to leave the nest? I just hadn’t understood the effect it would have on me, watching my little hatchling find his own new nest.
It’s a bittersweet victory, isn’t it? We know our children will someday fly and then land somewhere, ready to put down their own roots. We’re so proud of them we could burst, but it also hurts like a knife to the heart. Growing pains don’t just happen to kids. Moms feel them too.
Slowly, their home base will shift. Their room, filled with the tokens and memorabilia of childhood, will eventually be dismantled. It will be our turn to pack up a box or two of keepsakes to save in the attic like our moms did for us. Their names will disappear from the chore charts. They will come home for a visit and be surprised to see new furniture or a room rearranged in their absence.
And we find a new normal. One with adult conversations about gas prices and grocery bills, plans for trips and moves and jobs—a life being built. Maybe we will think about our own parents and wistfully smile as we now understand so much more about how they must have felt.
Letting go is a beautiful heartache, but watching them soar only makes us treasure the moments even more when they come back to roost for a bit.
by Kim Brown Reiner 
by Heather Duckworth 
