Tomorrow…

Nineteen years ago…. nineteen years ago, I was running around chasing a five year old while I was heavily pregnant with my second child. The second child came after a few years of struggling with infertility, before PCOS really had a name. My first child was a beautiful, happy, curly brown haired moppet of a girl with eyes the same as mine and a giggle that would warm the hearts of anyone who heard it. Oh, how she longed and waited for a sibling. The second child was a tiny, precious red-headed boy with huge blue eyes. He came after a medically difficult pregnancy. He beat the odds against him (and they were 90% against him) and after a minute of relaxing, after being so rudely and abruptly evicted early from his safe cocoon, uttered a cry that was probably the biggest balm to my anxious mother’s heart. From that moment on, we were a tight-knit family of four.

Tomorrow, my son heads to college. A college, like every other, who lets it be known they are pre-annoyed with a mother’s emotions. Just leave – they are adults now. It is drilled into your head from the first orientation day. There’s no off button for motherhood, buddy. It’s a lifelong emotional investment. I watch young mothers on the internet scoff at this stage. “You raised them to leave. This is their moment, don’t make it about you. It’s weird to be sad. I won’t be that way.” Oh how wrong you are, how blissfully ignorant.

Tomorrow, I will put on a happy face. I will help organize his room and be brilliantly happy about the new path he is going on. This sweet boy who wants to travel the world and have adventures – who will try any food once, the spicier the better – the boy who is in love with love and wants nothing more than to find the right girl – the boy who hides when he is sad and who can make my day better with a hug and a simple “it’s okay momma” – will be on his greatest adventure thus far, his best friend by his side.

Tomorrow, I will be brave for my husband who is leaving his son – his concert going, rock & roll listening, gym buddy, and co-worker in another state. My stoic husband who will not show that it hurts, though I know it does. He will be there for me, as we leave and tears come unbidden.

Tomorrow I will be supportive for my daughter who is leaving her tiny baby brother – her best friend, anime watching, board-game playing, adventure going ally – in another state. She will also be nonchalant because she thinks she has to be; she doesn’t.

Tomorrow I will be affectionate with the dog who does not understand why his boy is leaving.

Tomorrow I will be there for my mom who is going to miss her grandson – the one who is so much like my dad who passed away two years ago; the grandson who makes sure to check in on her and “reach the tall things.”

Tomorrow I will be there for my son – who even though he is eighteen and grown will miss his family like crazy and even though he is excited, will feel trepidation and nerves as he takes on a new world.

Tomorrow I will lock eyes with his best friend’s mom – my friend, who I have walked beside on this journey since these two boys found each other when they were ten- through grade school and high school and now college – and know she will be feeling all the same things I am.

Tomorrow, I will have a glass or two of alcohol with my best friend, who will make me laugh when I feel like crying because she understands that I need that and I will shed a few tears with my other bestie who will check on me throughout the day, even though she is on vacation, because she knows my mother’s heart will be breaking just a little.

Tomorrow I know he will be back visiting soon – with his booming voice and his deep laugh; shoes left in inconvenient places; gym bag carelessly tossed; water bottles and coffee cups abandoned; clothes inside-out in the wash; window open though the air is on; friends lounging on every surface; video games loudly played – and every last bit of it will simultaneously aggravate me and make my mother’s heart joyously happy.

Today I will put on a happy face and run the last errands. Tonight I will toss and turn, sleep will not come. Tomorrow will. I hate tomorrow.