This is the hardest part.
Sitting with my sweet girl before she boards the plane and leaves for the school year- it breaks my heart. And once she walks through the gate, I have to watch and wait as she sits right there- so close- before the plane takes off.
And then she’s gone.
I walk back to the car alone, her radio station is still playing. Her water bottle from breakfast is still in my cup holder. The little traces of her linger and I don’t want to wash her clothes and put them away until next time.
I pick Carter and Clare up and we go to lunch. I feel like something is missing, and it is. She is always in the back of my mind.
Carter and Clare still ask about her, he slips up and calls me Elle Kade on accident. They don’t understand the concept of time and how long it will be until they will see her again.
I take the kids to lunch and Carter chooses pizza. I don’t even bother ordering a salad and choose to eat my feelings instead. Is that justified? No. Do I feel better now? No.
So we go thrift shopping to distract. We spend hours wandering the stores and I only end up buying books (tons of books) for the kids and a few to mail Elle Kade. Retail Therapy.
It’s bedtime now and I’ve tucked my babies in and kissed them good night, all but one. That void is so real right now, and I just lay on her bed as I write this trying to connect with her somehow. She was here just a few hours ago. And I don’t know when I’ll see her again.
It gets easier. Some days are better than others, not every day is like today. I still get to see her beautiful face when we FaceTime and I can call her tomorrow. I am so grateful for the time that she spent with us this summer, and I am already looking forward to the next time I get to visit her. Until then, this is the hardest part.