Helicopter-free zone

Woke up in a childless house for the first time in seventeen-plus years. She's in college now, one day into her freshman year. Three days, if you count the weekend.

First reports are highly positive: good room-mate, good suite-mate, new friends, dorm room working out well, lots of fun so far. Too early to know about her classes, of course. But college seems wonderful. At least, that's her view of it.

Mine is different. The house seems terribly empty, unnaturally quiet. The dog - her dog - seems bewildered. So am I, but he shows it more. I think.

Knew full well long before this weekend that she is the central figure in my life, and as every reluctantly realizes, I was doomed to abandonment. And now it's happened. Knowing that it's for the best, knowing it's what she's been craving, knowing that it's what I've always wanted for her, knowing that this past weekend would be the biggest step in her long road to independence ... knowing all of that helps, but not that much. I miss her, and there's a huge hole in my life.

But it's up to me to fill it; she quite properly is looking forward, not backward.

Right now the best I can do is to avoid becoming a helicopter parent, or worse, a velcro parent. The temptation is strong, but it would be destructive of everything I want for her. So I try to limit my calls and e-mails to plausible excuses.

Fortunately, she's helping in that regard. A couple of excited calls about new friends. A wail about a cold night and a missing blanket. A small gift of something I know she'll like, to arrive in her mailbox later this week. And then the first call for money. (And that, I'm pleased, was for a good reason, and easy to oblige.)

But her departure is not without benefits. For the first time since she arrived all those years ago, I'm cooking to my tastes, not to the lowest common denominator she imposed. And I'm biking on those small errands she used to like to share ... provided we drove. I know too that there will be other little surprises along the way, until my life reaches a new dynamic that defines her as a welcome but only occasional visitor.

Still, I miss her. Powerfully. This giving of one's heart to a child isn't an easy thing.