The house is quieter, the heart is louder

I have two adult children, two young women, they are not mine, they belong to themselves, I helped raise them alongside their dad and an army of friends and family who all played a role, big or small, in shaping who they’re becoming.

My ego wants to say they are mine, they belong to me, because that gives me a whole lot of fucking purpose, becoming a mum at twenty four answered my soul’s cry, why are you here.

When Ayla was born and I felt the first sting at my nipple and realised that if I didn’t feed her she would die, I finally felt real, ego quenching purpose

So you might see where I’m going with this, my kids are growing up and, one by one, leaving home, and it’s confronting, because yes, I can hear my ego asking, what am I good for now, how do I fill the hours that used to be jam-packed with meal prep and house jobs.

Divorced ten years now, 50/50 custody taught me some of this rhythm, but not all of it. The transition is huge, I see many parents standing here with me, and sometimes it feels like the kids were a bandaid over a bigger soul quest that still wants attention
My daughters are magic, they are my pride and my greatest teachers, they carry the old wisdom in our blood and hand it back to me in their own voices, they are my secret advisors and my loudest cheerleaders, they are uniquely themselves and they inspire me daily.

I haven’t stopped being their mum, that role is still mine, but the daily rhythm is changing fast, and with that change new possibilities are opening.

So I’m soaking these days in a mixed punch of grief for what’s gone, awe for who they are, and real excitement for what’s coming. We’re celebrating another high school graduation this week, one more to go in three years, and I’m reminded to cherish what is here, right now.