I just dropped my last kid off at college
Two months before the last day of my last kid at home, I stopped being able to write. For me, nothing feels like it really happened unless I write it down. So I thought: this must be documented. It’s the biggest moment of our life. Or his life. Or something. At least draw a picture.
I don’t always think in pictures, but I’ve been tutoring this girl who always thinks in pictures. I’m giving the girl confidence to say, “I’m a visual learner,” and she’s giving me the confidence to say, “I’m a writer who is drawing right now.”
People always say that kids grow up so fast. I think it’s because we are more likely to remember the special events than the things we did day in and day out. I’ve heard time starts going even faster as we age. It’s hard to imagine, but in that case, if I want to get something done in my life I need to do it urgently.
I’m also starting to think about accomplishments. I’ve had three startups exit. Brazen.com was acquired by Radancy. I didn’t make money. I sold my stock early to buy Z a cello. Someday I’ll write the story about how before I sold the stock, I did what I thought was my only other option: I accidentally stole a cello.
I am not even sure what all my accomplishments add up to. I think they are the result of me trying lots of things that add up to nothing. I think what really feels like an accomplishment is when I try something new and actually put out something. Showing people what I tried.
So here is my journal of the last two months before I took Z to college. I don’t know what my empty-nest life will be, but I hope I am still brave enough to invest a lot of time into things that don’t work.
I feel this. Every summer my daughter comes home from college and when she goes back in the fall I’m frozen. I get horribly depressed for at least a month. For me, it doesn’t get easier. Doesn’t help she goes to school in Florida and I’m in western Canada. Being a mom is hard.
I was thinking about that — how it’s good that he’s in North Carolina and I’m in Boston so I leave him alone. I’m surprised it doesnt’ get easier each semester. Thank you for telling me that. I’m bracing myself!
It was a wakeup call to me how many people asked me if I’m moving to North Carolina. Like, of course I am. People thought that. Which is horrifying. I am trying really hard to give him space. He’s doing well. He’s making good decisions. I am working on leaving him alone.
Also, TBH, I still have the older kid close by. And we get together at least once a month. Which makes me happy. I love our dinners.
Penelope
I think the good byes get easier (I’m not as emotional anymore) however, as much as I mentally prepare for her to go, physically I shut down for a month afterwards. I’m trying to figure it out. Thank god she graduates in 2025. She’s a student athlete and got 2 extra years of scholarship money from Covid and a medical red shirt year. So I’m going on year 6 at this point
I’ve always wished you’d publish a book and become a sort of David Sedaris, reading your essays in theatres. The Comic Sans tells me it will be equally funny.
Nur I want your comment to be true.
I want this to be true as well.
Just today, my husband said, “it all ends up in the fire anyway, right?” From something I had read to him long ago…
Penelope, I love that you’re always expressing your emotions in new and creative ways. I see more of myself in you as I’m aging (28 now), and am in the midst of homeschooling – hoping my kids always want me around.
That’s a great thing to hope for, Melody. There are so many things I didn’t realize I was hoping for — someone to share my books with, someone to go to the beach with, someone who wants to be an athlete. Those hopes were so unproductive. But the hope that kids always want to be around me in one form or another seems like a hope that was a good one to have all the way through.
Penelope
I read a piece by Mary Oliver, who was a prolific writer of both poetry and prose, and fondly thought of you, Penelope. She had a lifelong habit of solitary walks in the wild. Wishing you the best as you enter the next chapter of your remarkable life..and never stop being wild…or writing. We need you.
To live in this world you must be able to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it against your bones, knowing your own life depends on it;
and when the time comes, to let it go. <3
Oh, please let my empty-nest life be full of Mary Oliver!
-Penelope
Oh Penelope, you have already accomplished
so many wonderful, important things in your life.
From the Harvard to the home schooling to
codifying mental and emotive states, to parenting, to
the beach basketball to your hypertext fiction to
your positively riveting blog — and a dogmother to boot. apologies
if i have in advertently left stuff out– wife, mother, exwife, eternal
mother, graphic communicator. We love you.
Never judge yourself to be wanting.
For accomplishments, for me, it takes long musing over a steaming coffee for things to pop up. Maybe I should write stuff down.
My parents would say to have good ego and disregard the past. However, my father, as a senior, found it useful to do the “wall of fame” thing and post his various plaques, awards and photographs.
Maybe I should be saving my certificates and so forth. I was at a celebration of life where the deceased had plastic sleeve page binder with certificates. Maybe I should do something similar, even though I’m not so active in things in my later years.