While out for a walk in my neighborhood this week, a mom I know, driving her well-used Suburban, called out to me. She has six children -- the youngest is in middle school, the oldest is several years out of college.
I sat with my mother on my bed as the movie ended. We pretended that we weren't both heartbroken at the thought of her only daughter moving away from home and simply focused on how great I would look in my new trench coat traipsing around New York City à la Anne Hathaway.
My daughter will be fine, I tell myself. She will be fine, she tells herself. And yet the ache of longing for both of us makes us, if only for a moment, wish to stay put in our safe harbor, to stand fast in the life we have made.