Simply stated and to the point.
"You're In."
No exclamation point. No fluff. Just those two words followed by a period,
yet the punch they hold is massive.
My daughter, Kenna, will be leaving for college in the fall.
After scoring well on her ACT, our household endured mountains of college literature.
Kenna laboriously read through each and every colorful brochure and kept a record on the back of her bedroom door of her top choices.
She's the oldest child. A bit more driven and stubborn than my other two children, with possibly a teaspoon or so of OCD. At her father's wise insistence, she made a list of her top 3 choices.
I took her to visit one in Colorado, and he took her to visit two in Washington.
I took her to visit one in Colorado, and he took her to visit two in Washington.
She fell head over heels for the campus, the programs, and the culture at Western Washington in Bellingham. She fervently texted me photo after photo of every detail of the visit with simple statements like,
"This is it!"
"I've found my school!"
and even more simply,
"Ahhhhhhhh!"
The fog and drizzle agrees with her. The dense forests bordering the campus and the mighty Pacific within view more than make up for the lack of her beloved Rocky Mountains.
She has a bit of a gypsy spirit… always ready for the next adventure, and more than antsy to live somewhere other than her Colorado home.
"THIS is the time to explore other places.", she reasoned.
I can't argue with that.
At reading those two simple words, she began to scream and cry simultaneously.
We hugged… longer than my teenage daughter usually allows me to hug her.
She was absorbing the moment; the pinnacle of years of hard work and determination.
The culmination of all the "joining" of clubs and activities and volunteer work that's involved in resume'-packing came together in one statement.
The moment was profound and very real for her.
It was real for me too.
In a very different way.
As we embraced, I smelled her hair as only a mother's heart can.
I was filled to the brim with excitement for her and relief that she finally had the news she'd been anxiously awaiting and that it was as she'd hoped.
I squeezed a little tighter, knowing that this moment signaled a cue for me to let go a bit more.
I reassured her of how amazing this journey would be for her as inside,
my heart began to crumple at the edges like a well-loved book page.
Her brother and sister came running when they heard the commotion.
"I'm in!", she exclaimed.
How can such BIG news be delivered in so few words?
Their response was unexpected.
I stood for a moment and watched as this information was processed and giant alligator tears rolled down both her sibling's cheeks.
Then the floodgates opened and all three of my children instantly mourned the change.
They've been very close their whole lives, often opting to crowd into one twin bed like sardines to fall asleep, even though they each have their own room and bed.
After Mike and I divorced five years ago, they have been the constant in each other's lives…
the one thing that remains consistent between households.
None of them was exactly sure what this meant for them.
They just knew it felt better to face change together.
So, we stand at a crossroads.
I am faced with the charge of navigating my other two children through this process of letting go,
while authentically celebrating the journey my oldest has so diligently paved for herself.
It's another of life's moments that I feel ill-prepared to face, yet it's happening.
This is happening.
She will be leaving to begin her own journey.
I know it's as it should be.
Now, just to convince my heart and my other two children.
Together, we will wander the path into this new season.
A simple notification signaled the time is now.
She's in.
Love, Live, and Create with Intention,
Kristi
Beautifully written Kristi!! xoxo
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