There's Nothing Sweet About Parting

My oldest son is a junior in college in NYC. He came home for spring break and left this morning because he had to work tomorrow.

I hate good-byes. Hate them. My baby brother and I steal from The Simpsons every time we part and say "Smell ya later." It doesn't make me cry any less but at least I can laugh through my tears. I left home when I was nineteen to go work in the big city so if practice makes perfect I should be really good at saying good-bye.

I'm not. Every time my mouth whispers good-bye my heart screams "don't go!!!" My eldest has left me many times and each and every time we cling to each other, sobbing, like we're the last two survivors on a sinking ship. Then my husband has to break it up in order to get on the road... again.