Thoughts on a Far Away Birthday

Two years ago I stood in the driveway and watched as my oldest son's possessions were loaded into a large moving van.

"Now, don't cry when we start carrying his things out of here," said the man from Atlas Van Lines. "The first one out of the house is hard."

Nicholas had just graduated with an engineering degree from Clemson University and was headed to Little Rock, Arkansas for a new job. The last few weeks in which we celebrated his graduation, packed endless boxes (mainly with books--everything from Dostoyevsky to Naruto), flew out to Arkansas to search for an apartment, gathered supplies, and refinished donated furniture had brought us to this very moment.

A moment in which we watched our son go.

Despite the chaos that lead us to this point, nothing prepares you for this, and yet when the time came I felt peace settle in my heart because it was time.

It. Was. Time.

Today is Nicholas' birthday (he's 25!) and he is still in Little Rock. He has a wonderful job that enables him to do some traveling, he likes his coworkers, he has the nicest girlfriend and a great group of friends, his apartment is comfortable, and he's learned to cook. He texts us during the week and calls home faithfully every Sunday evening.

We couldn't be prouder of him.

I know some may see the finality of a child moving out as an ending, but I chose to see it as a transition. There was a shift in our family dynamics, and certainly a period of adjustment, but it was also a springboard to new beginnings, traditions, and adventures.

And while I'd love to have him here, in this very moment, to be able to give him a birthday hug, or fix his favorite meal, or take him to Barnes & Noble so we can stock up on books, I am happy knowing that he's happy and that his birthday weekend is filled with exciting activities.

All the same though, I think I'll take the advice of the man from Atlas Van Lines and have a box of tissues nearby.