Friday, November 9, 2012


Today, my daughter moved out to her new apartmen that she is sharing with her boyfriend. This is actually the second time this has happened; 4 years ago (god, or was it 5?) she went off to Concordia University in Montreal. She came back home to finish her last year here at Dalhousie, but now she's flying the nest for good.

I've made a lot of jokes about how happy I will be to get my craft room back, and how great not to have to drive her around, AND to be able to get rid of her cat (bringing my household total to a much more manageable 5, haha). And don't get me wrong - all these things will be wonderful; my house is pretty small for an extra person and cat (especially one who has ALL THE CLOTHES!!!). And she's only moving in to town, about a 15 minute drive away. But surprise surprise, I'm going to miss her after all.

I've never been that mom that mourns her children's increasing independence: no sobbing at the school bus stop that first day of kindergarten, no boo-hooing at high school graduation. From the very moment of birth, when they draw their first unassisted breath, our job as parents is one long, gradual letting go. I have celebrated all those moments, which culminate in this one: setting up her own household.

My baby is all growed up - Imma go cry now ;)

This is Taco, who no longer lives here

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