The goodbye girl

Here's the thing about having a daughter who goes to an out-of-state college. It is a constant, seemingly never-ending series of goodbyes.

And I'm not going to lie to you. I hate it.

I first wrote about this when my son decided to go to UT Austin for his freshman year. As anyone who ships their kids away to school knows, it's heartbreak on a schedule.

I moved her in to her dorm in Iowa and then said goodbye as I left my baby girl behind. She was a mess. Fortunately I was the tower of strength my children have always known me to be. In other words I managed not to start crying like a baby until we were in the car and heading towards the airport—in South Dakota. Don't get me started.

I fly her home for a quick Thanksgiving, then a short four days later we're saying goodbye. She comes back for Christmas break. We have a great three and a half weeks, celebrate the new year and then we're saying goodbye again.

The next goodbye is scheduled for Easter break in March. Maybe I'll be able to ramp up for it.

I suppose the goodbyes would be easier if she were going to school in state. She'd be away from home, far enough away from us, but not sixteen-hundred miles, two plane rides and a three-hour drive away.

What can I tell you? I love my girly. And while I love that she's growing into an independent, educated, wickedly funny young woman who can belch for forty-five seconds straight (it's a skill), I hate that she's doing it in Iowa.

So until March, we'll be burning up Facetime, which is the next best thing to being with her.

It'd be unfair, selfish and manipulative for me to try to sway her into coming back by playing on her emotions and trying to bribe her.

That's why I'm not saying anything about how much her grandmother and her dogs miss her. How she'd have her car here, you know, the one we'll be painting for her. And how'd she'd probably have a big increase in her allowance and credit card spending.

It wouldn't be fair. So let me just say, have fun back at school baby. Make the most of every minute—this will be one of the big adventures of your life. And take full advantage of all the variety, options and diversity that Iowa has to offer.

Corn on the cob. Corn chowder. Corn muffins. Corn casserole. Corn pudding. Corn salsa.

It won't be like this for long

I know you're getting tired of posts about my son going off to college. But that's what's taking up all the brainspace right now, and writing about it here is cheaper than therapy (and a lot cheaper than tuition). I promise this will be the last one on the topic for awhile (fingers crossed, snickering to himself...).

This startlingly beautiful baby is my boy. It's always been one of my favorite shots of him. It was taken at our great friend Michelle Purcell and her husband John's former house in San Clemente, just before he gave a piano recital of Rachmaninoff's piano concerto number 3 (I recall he was pretty accomplished at number 2 as well - BAM!).

I don't remember how old he is here. I only know he's sure not that age anymore.

We just got back from dropping him off at his dorm room in Austin where, if you don't know by now, in between going to all-night movie festivals, eating barbecue brisket by the pound and locally-sourced quinoa salads, he's majoring in film.

And I don't mean dropping him off in the "here's your hat what's your hurry" sense. More in the "we're going to take six days, fix up your dorm room, buy even more things for you at Bed Bath and Beyond, take you out to eat for every meal and let you stay with us in our nice hotel until you absolutely have to move in" sense.

I won't go into what it was like to say goodbye before we had to leave for the airport yesterday. As I'm sure you've surmised by now from the other posts I've put up on the subject, suffice it to say I was a mess (I know, I'm as shocked as you are).

But twenty-four hours later, you'll be glad to know, it's not one iota easier.

I'm lucky in that I have a kid who wants us to text, call, FaceTime and Skype with him all we want. Or so he says. We won't drive him crazy, but we will be in touch on a regular basis. But he's grown up and he's growing up, and we're going to let him do it - no matter how much it hurts or how counter-intuitive it is.

It's been said they're leaving you from the moment they're born. Maybe, but for sure he's been leaving faster and faster as he's gotten older.

And now, in the blink of an eye, he's off becoming the man he's meant to be.

I'm so lucky, because I can't remember a time when my son and I ended a conversation without saying "I love you" to each other. And I'm not about to start now.

I love you buddy man.

Now I have to go help your sister move into your old room.