It never gets an easier, even after all this time. The sight of them, backs to me, as they head out the door. Hair still wet from the shower, bags of accessories in one hand, lunches in the other. Now, they carry their own car keys, too. Still, when they go, a little piece of me leaves with them, my heart no longer whole. I wish there was more to hang on to, the excited retelling of their day, what happened to whom, and the impromptu choruses of *Sweet. Baby James.” The days interminable until they return again. This week, Saturday, next not till Sunday. Until then the cords of my heart will remain taut, like the strings of their shoulder bags. 

Everyone keeps reminding me how hard empty nesting will be. I’m glad to see my kids launch themselves into the great unknown. But that can’t be harder than this. Wednesday morning cereal bowls sitting in the sink. Tonight there won’t be dinner plates, too.

I wish for them lights upon their ankles, illuminating each tiny step in front of them. I, too, will walk into the next hour, and the next hour, and the next, one at a time, wondering how they’re doing, what they’re thinking, whose heart is breaking, and who is is spilling over. I will sit in the unknowing. Until they return.