It’s the end of the summer (I am OK with this) and it’s been a while. I am off the idea of fitness tracker comparisons (I love my Jawbone UP2, anyway, and maybe I’ll talk about it sometime) and I never made it with the recipe integration (I leave this to the experts) so I am just going to go with whatever moves me that day.

Two days ago, I left R Featherstone at school for her second year. (We agree that we prefer “second year” to “sophomore” – the latter of which, when you think about it, does sound sophomoric.) The days before were filled with shopping, not shopping, packing, and, especially, not packing, not to mention reading other people’s Facebook posts about sending their kids off to school for the first time and how (insert powerful emotion here) that felt. Not really me, this year, with the mad posting. We both kind of knew what to expect.

Or did we? We filled the car to the gills, making me take a moment to pat myself on the back yet again for purchasing a monster truck (technically, a midsize, I think, SUV, but to this girl, it’s a monster truck) that would hold almost everything. We had to leave the “micro fridge” at home for the time being as the “micro” portion of it turned out to be a misnomer. Anyway, we’ve packed before, check. And we’ve done the road trip together, check. But what we didn’t pack last year was perspective. Perspective, if not folded neatly, would have filled the entire monster truck. Between the two of us, we had classes, scheduling, finance issues, separation issues (both of us, dare I say), discovering where we needed some extra help, and home and work issues. Layer all this on top of a been there, done that attitude, and some unexpected bubbles emerge.

The three hour drive allowed us time both to talk sans most distractions and get too much coffee. I resisted the urge to lecture on everything (R may disagree) and was able to listen and enjoy hearing from this evolving – gasp – young woman. Not terribly stressful.

What R didn’t know, and maybe won’t until now, is how much I miss her when she’s not around. On occasion, we joke about her staying home, or me camping out in her dorm. It’s great fun. My life sparks when she’s nearby. We’ve got this good thing going, a language of our own, things that make us laugh ’til we’re doubled over. I have fun with her that I simply can’t have with anyone else. All that, I realize, is completely selfish of me. My world may light up when she’s here, but her world blossoms and brims with opportunity when she’s not. Perhaps that’s the most difficult part. Yes, we need each other, but not as much as she needs to grow and explore this crazy, rich world around us. I will always be here, stepping back to let her surge forward, but close enough to grab her hand on this crazy ride – if she’ll let me.