So yesterday it finally happened.
We packed the car with his belongings. His room, once his place of retreat and teenage clutter, looks forlorn and empty. The cupboards are stripped bare apart from a few scattered items he no longer wears. The television is wordless and redundant. The window is open and an autumnal breeze rustles the blinds and chills the room.
All is quiet.
Downstairs, it's time to go. I hug my son, my first born child. There's a tear in my eye but I won't allow myself to cry. I see a tear in his eye too but he won't allow himself to cry either. We both know it's time for him to take the first footsteps to adulthood and independence.
It's time for a new adventure.
The car pulls off the driveway. I wave as he disappears into the distance. Slowly, I make my way back to the chaotic kitchen where all the morning jobs still await me. What shall I do first? The dishes? The laundry?
I pause. No, it's time for something else. I reach over to my cd player and press PLAY;
YIPPPPEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! 1 down, only 2 to go!
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