Just like Christmases, the summers without my older daughter are routine now … but still not fun.
Between summer camp and the custody arrangement that gives me the school year and her dad the summer, I have made my peace with not really seeing my kid except over FaceTime in June and July.
But it’s still sort of lonely leaving the airport alone.
I know, though, that she has adventures without me; discovers cities like Mount Horeb, Wisconsin, which is apparently the troll capital of the world; eats food I would never agree to like buffet sushi in Utah and something sold at QuikTrip that she calls “chicken log”; and does things that my former officemate Angie would call “not my ministry” like zip-lining and rock-climbing.
And with our one resident extrovert gone, our family will do things that aren’t her ministry, such as spending the whole day in different parts of the house reading and watching Netflix; texting one another to communicate from within the same home; and falling into a rabbit hole reading about Cambodian cuisine (Robert) or Dragon Slayer anime (Georgia) or the John Forsyth case (me).
I know it’s healthy to remember who I am when I am not the mom of a teenager. I know we need “spaces in our togetherness.” I know she will be off to college in just two more years so I need to start getting used to it.
It’s hard, and I miss her. After growing her in my body, I think as long as I live, I will always miss her when she isn’t physically right next to me.
But she is having fun with her adventures. And the rest of us are having fun with our non-adventures.
Until August, I am just thankful that there’s FaceTime. And that I don’t have to eat “chicken log.”
