When it comes to transitions, large or small, I suck. Always have, and presumably always will. Few who have ever been deeply connected with me would accuse me of disconnecting easily.
On the other hand, I do try to not impose my emotions on others, and have learned a few ways to disguise what I'm feeling at such times with varying degrees of success.
Watching your children grow up is full of transitional moments, many of which are very happy in nature. There are usually bittersweet elements of nostalgia, however, and your own awareness, as the parent, that what is being left behind will not be visited again.
That particular stage is now over.
Today, we hugged our daughters good-bye as they left on a two-week adventure in the wilderness. They will backpack, cook outside, hike many miles, rock-climb, kayak in the sea, sleep under the stars, and string up their food packs from wild animals.
For most of them, certainly it's the case for my daughter, this will be the longest they have ever spent away from their families.
The organization arranging this expedition is devoted to helping girls learn survival skills, wilderness skills, and self-esteem. It seems to be a terrific program.
The only communication method for us is to send them letters, which they will receive at various points during their adventure.
I've been to many of the points on their itinerary, which helps, so I can envision where she is camping tonight very clearly. That will be the case many, though not all nights on their journey.
Missing her is moderated by being proud of her, imagining her adventures, and sensing her growth.
They told us that when they come home, they will seem "older."
Maybe that is the reason I cried as I hugged her good-bye today.
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