It’s been four years since he has lived under our roof. Eight since he moved away for college. You’d think I’d be used to him leaving by now.
Dropped my big kid at the airport and have been moping ever since. But this – something as small and stupid as the coffee cup he left on the porch, where he sat just a few short hours ago – makes me want to run to the airport and drag him back. So I can tell him how proud I am of him and how much I love him and how I hate living so far away.
And so he can pick up his dishes.