Yesterday, I packed my car seats (and trunk and floors) with most of his possessions and moved him out.While it's true that we have had variations on this theme for the past four years while Justin was in college, he has returned here when school was not in session. Now that he has graduated, he is off to make a home of his own, albeit at first, in a summer sublet.
Sublets, I suspect, will be a staple of Justin's existence for a while. He's a musical theater actor, and will likely be spending a good deal of his time, at least in the near future, on the road or wherever his work will take him.
This is not the first time he has left home, of course. That distinction belongs to Stagedoor Manor, the performing arts camp where Justin spent six wonderful weeks for six amazing summers learning his craft, making lifelong friends, and working with a phenomenal group of professionals. (If you look closely, you may still be able to spot a photo of him in some rather interesting headwear on the website.)
At the end of high school, Justin moved to Northwestern University, for four more years of classes and experiences that have helped him continue to grow into the accomplished young man and talented performer he is today. He spent freshman year in a dorm, then moved into off-campus apartments for the remainder of his time in Evanston.
But always, he has come home.
Here.
Where he eats everything in sight in the refrigerator (along with things that may possibly have been hidden to escape easy detection). Where he always parks a water glass on the kitchen counter by the microwave oven. Where he never pushes in the piano bench after he's done playing. And where the floor of his bedroom becomes increasingly less visible the longer he stays.
Where he sings in the shower, and mindlessly, everywhere else. Does pirouettes in the den. Makes me laugh. Makes me think. Makes me proud.
I know that my son is ready -- more than ready -- to move out and begin this next phase of his life. I know that much of what I have done during the past twenty-two years has been to help prepare him for just this day. Roots ... wings ... check. I know this is a time to be much more happy than sad, and what I am feeling is more about nostalgia for the things we have shared than any kind of sorrow for what I might miss.Justin is moving to New York City to pursue his dreams and share his gifts. He has been wanting this and working toward it for years. I am grateful that his future looks so bright.
And as he begins this next stage of his life, I am beyond thankful that the first stage was such a profound and wonderful part of mine.
Besides, now I won't have to hide my leftovers anymore.
