The Next Thing Is Also the Before Thing

Lily went back to college this morning. My husband flew off to a conference. And so I find myself here in my backyard, listening to a very similar playlist to when I was last alone, in 1998.

I’ve cried. A lot. I’ve missed my daughter. I’ve missed the weight of her head on my shoulder that in truth hasn’t been there regularly in years.

It might be I’m missing a memory.

Or an identity?

Or an idea.

Because my life now is wonderful. My daughter has grown into a breathtaking young woman, all strength and intelligence and talent. I miss her, but she is not gone from my heart or my life. She is becoming her own reality.

My marriage is strong and something I marvel at daily, having witnessed the many, many tries we have all taken and how few of them have stuck, despite all our best efforts. There is no talent to relationships.

I’m now in another transition, trying to figure out who I am now. I’m the rocket ship, not the launchpad.

What if maybe what I thought was the main part was just the thruster all along?

What if that were true?