I know what you mean. My daughter was first. She was ready to move out and so were we. Then my son moved out, my husband left, took the dog and my son stopped talking to me.
I love that struggle to be big...to be independent...standing on the edge of the nest, wings spread...flapping like mad, but feet firmly hooked to the nest, then one day.....they leap...and your heart stops for an instant, then they soar.........
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Where are you going, my Child
With your smiles and laughs
Will you return
Will you remember
I hope
Where are you going, my Child
With your hopes and dreams
Will you chase them
Will you catch them
I hope
Where are you going, my Child
With that special part of me
Will you keep it
Will you cherish it
I hope