Grown Up Babies

Most days I think my blogging days are over. I'm really out of things to say and after all, even the best stories can only be repeated so many times.

But then,

There comes a day when you follow a u-haul trailer across a state line and watch your oldest unpack in what is now his own place. You fight back tears as you hang his clothes in his new closet and place his favorite cereal bowls in his new cabinets and cover his fridge with stuff from your own fridge just so he'll feel at home. You sneak a family picture onto his dresser and watch as his dad gives him a Bible and wonder how in the world a kid can survive on so little in the kitchen cabinets.

So you find the local Wal-Mart and spend one hundred and sixty dollars of what you really can't spend just so he'll have a month's supply of ramen noodles and Totino pizzas. You buy him a broom and soap and a door mat. You think of things like ice cube trays and plastic pitchers and Country Time Lemonade. You put a brand new dish drain on the counter and fold a dish rag over the sink. You hang a curtain over the door window and make mental notes of how many other curtains he will need for the rest of the house.

When the sun sets and you know it's time to leave, you check the locks on his front door a dozen times and walk through each room taking just one more look. You wish you had brought a sleeping bag and a nightgown all the while knowing the next day would be just as hard. You stand on his driveway while his dad shakes his hand, commends him on becoming a man and being on his own, and prays a blessing over his home.

And you let the tears fall.

This whole parenting thing... we raise them up just to watch them leave and wonder where in the world the time went.

I wouldn't trade that time for all the ramen noodles in the world.