I was working out in my garden this afternoon when Mikaela came out to let me know she was going off for the afternoon and would probably not be home for dinner. So, this is a pretty normal occurrence these days. Having just turned 21, she is spreading her wings. In a few weeks she will be graduating from college. And moving out. Not to a dorm. Not to an apartment for the school year. But moving out. For good. Just before she drove off I asked her if she was working Friday and she said, “No, mom. Friday is moving day.”

I knew this day was coming. But for some unexpected reason I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. How could she possibly be moving out? How could it be that both of my kids have grown up enough to be on their own? Kyle’s been out of the house since November. And now Mikaela will be moving in with him.

My mind knows it’s true and it’s time and it’s a good thing. My heart? My heart is full. Full of love. Full of sadness. Full of that bittersweet feeling that makes you want to laugh and cry at the same time. I feel like my purpose in life has disappeared. Which is kind of funny since up until the exact second that I saw the positive sign on the home pregnancy test, I NEVER wanted to be a mother. I did not have the disposition it took to give myself over completely to another human being who would be tied to me for the rest of my life. I was too selfish. Too set in my ways. Heck, I was almost 35. But the instant I found out I was actually pregnant, all that changed.

Throughout the past 25 years, I have been a mother to those two amazing beings that I carried for nine months – wait, Kyle was only 8-1/2 months and Mikaela was only 7 months, but you know what I mean. I have given of myself in ways I never thought possible. Experienced a love that I could have never imagined before becoming a mother. And every mother knows exactly what I mean. I have loved them fiercely. Protected them fiercely. Hurt for them in their times of sadness and disappointment as if it was my own sadness and disappointment. I have been angrier at them than I ever thought possible and found I have so many buttons they just loved to push and I let them at times. I have found a measure of joy in their very being that is unsurpassed. I have laughed ’til I cried – with them, because of them, even at them, I admit. I have cried ’til I laughed – with them, because of them, and sometimes I have just cried my heart out at the mere thought of them. They’ll never find a bigger cheerleader in their entire life, I can promise that.

So now that they have grown up, moved out, and moved on, the questions remain. What now is my purpose in life? Will I ever see them again? How do I learn to shop and cook for just two? Who will I sing to sleep at night? Who will I fight with about leaving the sink a mess, or cleaning the bathroom? Who will I leave the light on for when I go to bed? And when will they finish taking all their stuff to their new home? I don’t know the answers to these questions. I guess I’ll just close my eyes, say a prayer, make a wish and leave my heart open for the next chapter.