Well, THAT was easy.
So far, at least.
Normally, Move Out has been a week of house/gear prep, a six-hour drive, transfer from the vehicle into dorm/apartment, hanging around Pismo for a day, and a six-hour drive back.
This time was barely a goodbye (he was impatient to beat LA traffic).
A completely different experience for Mustang Momma, as she took him shopping, cleaned all his clothes and gear (air fryers, mini-fridge, etc), helped him pack, etc., etc.
In my defense, I was just a full partner in the "Mustang: Learn By Doing" ethos.
I was a bit fragile in the week building up to this. Fine now. I'm sure there will be moments of despair (brief and shallow compared to previous years - Seasoned Veteran, now).
This week was another data point in that worry and reality are not connected. The stuff I worry about never comes to pass (although, worry is in many ways mental preparation for the future - I suppose the process is more important than the details). In Year 1, I dwelt in the novelty of the new exciting unknown. Year 4, I've mostly exhausted any value in overdoing it).
This summer was pretty special in that it was completely "normal".
A return to that Idyllic Parental State of dull routine and enough time to not worry about the next day or the next week. That's what I'm most thankful for - not thinking about the next moment, the (knowingly false) belief that time was unmeasured. Moments could be taken for granted.
A re-basking in that Special Purpose we chose for ourselves a long time ago. I think I knew before I was five that I wanted to be a dad - my Dad seemed to love it (and me) so much. It seemed to be his deepest joy. He was right, and I'm glad he passed that on to me.
The unknown this time around is mainly: do we get another summer of dull unhurried routine - or will he land a job far away with all it's attendant worries (like: how do we move into his new home city with him feeling stalked? ).
So, WOW is winding down, school starts next week. If you're on this page, you know where we all are emotionally. Same place: freshly rent (physically) from our Mustangs as they prepare for the adventure/grind of the school year. Some of us are more raw and apprehensive; some of us more steeled and more grizzled. But, we're all adjusting to The Away in our own way, to our own degree. But we feel each other, we know each other. Launch a bird, gain a flock. So true.
I will say this, in my fourth go around: those months leading up to and following The Launch are some of the most complex and rich emotional moments of our lives. Each year, as I follow the New Parents, those rich deep feelings are resurrected. But without the anxiety and worry, without the fear.
I am left feeling profound gratitude for having had this opportunity to experience this transcendence for myself personally and for my son as he grows from his larval stage into adulthood.
I remember the anxiety and worry. I remember the comfort I felt from this community. To this day I do not know how difficult it would have been for me without the Flock. It was comforting knowing that many people were going through EXACTLY what I was going through, feeling exactly what I was feeling. The giant heart-shaped hole he left behind was (mostly) filled by hundreds of little (because they were remote) hearts.
I think the most important instinct I grew/strengthened as a parent is wanting to be of service. There is a level of selflessness - a depth to every feeling in putting others before yourself - that I did not suspect existed before I became a parent.
Dash needs less (or, at least, less frequent) support. But like a cow that needs to milked, that compulsion needs release. Thank you for letting me feel some value in being supportive here. Being of value, being of use, is a need at this point. Your support over the years has helped me in my transition from the 24/7/365 "critical in keeping a fragile being alive" to the more subtle expressions of purpose that I'm still discovering.
I think we're all grappling with this Life Change, on top of all the overt stuff. I'm still deeply thankful for The Flock, four years in.
And, in year 5 (post graduation), I know I'll still be here. Reviving in my heart the rich beauty of The Launch and doing my best to provide support and comfort to those in the anxious throes of theirs.
You got this. We got you. You know we do.
Go Mustangs! Shine bright! (and call home!)