Far, far too often I find myself driving away from the people I care about the most. My husband, many times, and now my daughter.
We had a wonderful visit. Really, really awesome. Lots of laughter, some good conversations (debates?), some talk about her future.
I think she's missed home, too. Hugs were tighter. Smiles bright.
Other moms of kids this age know that the better the visit, the harder it is afterwards. How still the house is. How quiet her room.
When she left for school, her dad left at the same time. So it was kind of neat, just me and Little G in the house. A difference from the usual TDY or field duty or any other "away". It hurt, but I didn't feel ripped apart. Then, by the time my G came home, I was already kind of used to the empty room. Mostly.
This time... I could hear a tearing sound. I could feel the shredding. And once again, the highway lines were leading me away from my heart. It's getting old.
I know she'll do well. She is an amazing young woman and I am so proud. But still...This week, my heart has been sore. Not the broken, ripped-apart mess it was as I drove back home. But aching. Perhaps even healing.
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