Realizing the dream of having both of my offspring graduate from college and be on their way to gainful employment and, hopefully, rich lives, has been amazing.
I am proud beyond words. I am relieved. I am absolutely certain they will go forth and conquer, and I can't wait to witness their journeys.
Son has already begun to carve a path in the academic world, and has weekly stories to tell of the experiences he's having as he's done so. Firmly ensconced in the Middle East, he has managed to rise quickly in the ranks of his university, and appears to be loving his work, though it can be maddening at times. He's whittling down his student loans, and is now considering grad school at some point.
Daughter will begin her job right after Labor Day. She'll be working in NYC in a highly respected cancer center, and will be playing a role managing care for her patients. She is excited, a little nervous, and mostly anxious to begin this next big phase of her life.
They, my offspring, are fine.
I, however, realized just about 24 hours ago that this time when I put my girl on a plane to the East coast, we didn't have any return plans. None. We're waiting to see how things go, when she can get some time off, and maybe we'll spend the holidays with her instead of bringing her home as we always have in the past.
This time, the nest is really empty, and unless something ridiculous happens that lands one of my progeny back in the nest, it's gonna stay that way.
I feel like I want to just breathe a little, just accept that this is wonderful in the scheme of things, and be ok with it.
But there is a deep down hollow feeling that makes me want to curl up and take a nap. And I'm guessing this will take awhile to get through.
Hugs,
Stevie
I am proud beyond words. I am relieved. I am absolutely certain they will go forth and conquer, and I can't wait to witness their journeys.
Son has already begun to carve a path in the academic world, and has weekly stories to tell of the experiences he's having as he's done so. Firmly ensconced in the Middle East, he has managed to rise quickly in the ranks of his university, and appears to be loving his work, though it can be maddening at times. He's whittling down his student loans, and is now considering grad school at some point.
Daughter will begin her job right after Labor Day. She'll be working in NYC in a highly respected cancer center, and will be playing a role managing care for her patients. She is excited, a little nervous, and mostly anxious to begin this next big phase of her life.
They, my offspring, are fine.
I, however, realized just about 24 hours ago that this time when I put my girl on a plane to the East coast, we didn't have any return plans. None. We're waiting to see how things go, when she can get some time off, and maybe we'll spend the holidays with her instead of bringing her home as we always have in the past.
This time, the nest is really empty, and unless something ridiculous happens that lands one of my progeny back in the nest, it's gonna stay that way.
I feel like I want to just breathe a little, just accept that this is wonderful in the scheme of things, and be ok with it.
But there is a deep down hollow feeling that makes me want to curl up and take a nap. And I'm guessing this will take awhile to get through.
Hugs,
Stevie
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