Your Empty Room

Originally published on Her View From Home

Today I walked by your bedroom door and peeked in, out of habit I suppose. I saw your neatly made bed and your empty desk.  I saw the closet holding just a few remnants. The things you didn’t need for college.  

I didn’t mean to burst into tears. It just happened. I’m happy for you to be getting on with your life, pursuing your calling, and discovering where your gifts will be used in the world. This is what I raised you for.  

It’s what I prayed for when you were an infant in my arms. It’s why I spent years teaching you everything from how to tie your shoes to how to change a tire. It’s what I hoped for when I taught you to look adults in the eye and give a firm handshake.

It’s what we prepared you for when we let you try t-ball and tennis and soccer and piano, knowing things like teamwork, self-discipline, and endurance were skills you would use for the rest of your life.

I stepped inside and sat on the edge of your bed.