Taco Bell Breakdown

Finally, she's moved out! Totally and completely, out of her room... and into every other room in the house! She's packed and unpacked shoes ten times. Life goes on and one still has to dress for work.

Dia's best buddy moved yesterday. Elizabeth, Dia's left kidney left town for Notre Dame, but first she dropped by--ostensibly to return Dia's princess tiara (she knew college wouldn't be complete without it), but I knew that it was just an excuse, she came to see me as I have acted as her underground cheddar supplier for years.

I watched her leave and as she strolled down my front walk, she gazed around her as if smelling the air and taking in the surroundings one last time. I felt her saying goodbye to the very nature of things. It was as if she was embracing the change and immersing herself in it.

I'm wandering about wondering how bad it's really going to be before this college move-out thing gets done. When will I have my "Tacobell breakdown" (a favored Mom-cry spot on the BYU college campus).

I don't cry. Dia says I insulate, and that it's not necessarily a good thing. Yesterday we discussed that "When we don't get to the deepest feelings, then we can't explore our innermost thoughts." Sounds like a "the worst you feel now, the better you'll feel later" concept to me.

I'm skeptical. How does that work?

"If I don't deal with it now," she warns that "it's going to come back to bite me." Great, then I'll deal with it later.

My girlfriend (mom of four college girls) assures me that children need to move on and if I've given them strong wings, I'll have no regrets. She reminds me that someday they'll flit back, and with luck they'll bring grandkids.