Friday, September 19, 2014

My Little Birdie Left The Nest

Rebecca flew the coop. She pays rent and all the other bills that go along with the responsibility of being an adult. I'm sure she'll figure it out on her own. We all do, usually after making dozens of stupid mistakes financially and otherwise.


It's a new season of growth and change. I'm happy to see her spread her wings and fly solo. It makes me think I raised a girl who can make it in this world on her own and be a productive citizen.


She wasn't around much last year, so the adjustment hasn't been too dramatic, except that now she actually has her own home away from me. I haven't cried or really even missed her terribly. She's close by. If she would have moved to NY, like she threatens, I mean dreams of someday, I may have had a minor meltdown.


She still comes over to the old homestead and I'm always glad to see her. Right away I bombard her with... Are you hungry? Do you want me to make you a sandwich? Mac n Cheese? I have spaghetti. There's leftover chicken. From the first time we stick a nipple in their mouths, real or rubber, we want to nourish our children. It's in our DNA as mommas, as instinctive as breathing. Eating comes second to Rebecca, after finding her cat. She carries Ginger around like a baby. The cat must miss her too because she'll lay on Rebecca's bed while she's in her "old" room and follow her when she walks out. It is still her room. Lots of her stuff still lives here.


I get that she misses Ginger more than me but I don't care. I'm still happy when she is here, even if it is just to eat and take a nap with her cat. I will still raid the pantry and fill a bag or two with snacks for her to take home.


She is a nineteen year old student, employee, gifted writer, friend and girlfriend. She is strong, independent, talented, artistic, musical, her dad's daughter, God's daughter. She is many things to many people. But to me...to me...to me she is the first one to grow under my heart. The first one I fell in love with the second her body left mine. We may have functioned independently of each other when she was born, but we still needed each other desperately. I needed her as much as she needed me. If you don't understand that, you've never given birth. Now she is growing into real independence. She doesn't need me, my body, my money, (not yet anyway) my house or my food. I just like feeding her.


She doesn't need me. I don't need her. But I still want to be part of her life. I still want her. And I definitely want her to want me.