denise spencer on college

hm it's so true.

Between Michael's obvious anxiety and my friend's gentle warning, I was more determined than ever to keep it together. Besides, how could I break down in front of my 15-year-old son? I knew Clay would have the hardest time of all with Noel's leaving. She has been both his sister and his best friend. I had to be tough so Clay could maintain his manly facade. It was my duty as a mom.

And I succeeded. With the exception of one gulp and sniff as I hugged Noel goodbye, I looked happy. I was happy. She had spent 18 years getting ready for this moment. Even my sniffling wasn't due to sadness. What I whispered in her ear were the words, "We're so proud of you!" It was time to set her free.

Clay's headphones and somnolence gave Michael and me ample time to talk on the way home. I began to notice a pattern to our conversation. We kept reassuring ourselves that this was a good thing. Kids are supposed to grow up and leave home, right? We wouldn't want Noel to hang around forever . . . would we? An uncomfortable feeling began to grow inside me, and by the time we got home I knew what I had to do.

I had to grieve. Yes, I was happy for her. Yes, it was time for Noel to spread her wings and take to the air. But my friend was right. My time had come.

And so I sat here, in Noel's room---on the floor next to her bed with a handful of tissues, to be exact. And the tears came. For I had to admit what I had known all along: things will never be the same again. Never again will she live in this house full-time. Never again will we sit down each evening around the dinner table and swap stories about our adventures of the day. She will be a visitor from now on, and she will be forever leaving.

Still, the tears mingled with a curious kind of joy. Why? Because I remembered something else I had known all along: I had been preparing for this moment since Noel was two days old.