The nest is a little bit emptier now.
Kitty is safely ensconced in her dorm, whining a bit that the wifi in her room is sketchy. She's being wonderfully adult about it though -- and has already located areas nearby where the wifi is good. I'm hoping she'll mention it to the staff though. After all, she's going to be doing a lot of computing in her room, and on days where she really wants to just huddle down and work without dealing with -- weather -- or -- people -- she'll need that wifi.
Golf Pro and I invaded her space ... we went into her room armed with a vacuum cleaner. First, we pulled everything on the floor out into the hall, gathered the last remaining glass, spoon, and 1/2 finished can of Sprite, and accumulated a prodigious pile of videos to take back to their rightful places downstairs. Then we vacuumed up the dog fur, crumbs, and other stuff, and rescued the plant that would have died sitting alone unwatered until she came home. I've laundered her sheets and remade her bed. I've laundered the clothes that were lying about, and put them away. ...
There are still a few things lying about the house -- a pair of shoes under the couch, a book on the counter. For now, that makes it feel just a little bit like she's only out with friends, or at a sleepover. Within a day or two, we'll have found them all, and put them away in her room. And then it will be real. Kitty has moved out.
I suspect that for a little while, I'll be delighted at not finding her dishes sitting on the kitchen counter waiting for the house elf that we don't have to clean up after her. But already, I'm noticing the empty space at the dining room table.
I'm looking forward to hearing about the things she's learning, the people she's meeting, the experiences she's having. But I miss her anyway.
Doing my job meant preparing her to leave. I'm glad she's able to be away. I'm glad she's doing well so far. I'm confident she'll do well and better than well as time goes on. But I'm sad, just a little, just the same. It is the way of being a mom.