The Day After

Since my oldest daughter left for college, I have been back and forth between extremely depressed and moderately excited about the other children leaving.  When she returns home for a visit, I am pretty excited.  I look forward to things like going shopping, having a man-pedi, eating out, and just being together in general. However, that doesn't happen.

Instead, I see her on the pass by.  I know that she's home because there is a very loud discussion about how the children have junked up the place and I need to clean it up.  Followed by the sounds of the door opening, closing, opening, closing and friends showing up taking selfies and videos with chants like...  "my best friend's back" or "hey girl, what we gonna do."

So now that it is the "the day after" Thanksgiving, 2015, I am ready.  When I say ready, I am on the defensive. We, me and my oldest, haven't spent time together.  She is in her room, sleeping or watching Netflix.  All of my stuff is also in her room--my flatiron, my large barrel curling iron, my perfume, my manicure kit, my lotion, my face wash.  All of it!  There are also articles of clothing everywhere--none of which belong to me.

So, on "the day after", I am readying myself.  The child is going to wake up. Hurriedly pack her belongings into her backpack--actually stuff her belongings and some of mine into her backpack.  Give me kisses goodbye. Then ask for cash and a tank of gas. And I'm going to cry, because that is what I always do the day after her visit--the day when she leaves me again.