Don't let the tough exterior fool you...

It's been lots of days. I don't know how many exactly. Lots. Enough to adjust one would think. That's all that matters in this little story.

The apartment is supercute. I mean, SOO-PURR-KEWT. Her candle-lighting, toilet-cleaning, toaster oven-cooking, barstool-assembling self is as happy as a lark. And should be. She has her own refrigerator magnets after all.

And her $5 decorative branches from IKEA.

Don't forget her library of seven DVDs.

I would be remiss in not mentioning the Babushka doll salt'n'pepper shakers. Cupcake soap. Her own tiny junk drawer. Rice paper lamp. Her prize Hawkeye Snugli. Snuggi? Whatever. She even has two totem poles. *fist pound to our Cherokee people*

God has led her to an amazing new body of believers. Ohmyland, am I thankful for that.

Did I mention my former 'hood is her new stomping ground? Yeah. It's awesome. She can cruise Ingersoll, frequent the original Campbell's, walk to the Art Center, buy kosher meats at the tiny Jewish grocer and then walk around the corner and have some dirty hashbrowns at the Waveland. She can jog down the very boulevard I tp'd as a teenager. She is blocks from the sandwich I ate every week for three years. (Shout out to Suzie's Surprise!) She can feed the geese at the same cemetery pond where I fed geese. And I know in my heart they are the sons and daughters of the exact geese I fed. *cue Circle of Life*

She can be safe.

She loves it and I am thrilled. Truly and deeply. I am so at rest. Truly. And deeply.

And yet there is this tightness in my chest. A wet spot on my cheek that comes from nowhere. A sharp lump in my throat. Or my heart. I am learning there is really not much difference.

Lean in so you can hear this, Little Blog...sometimes I catch myself not breathing. True story. So far Someone always bypasses that tricky diaphragm of mine and reminds me to take a gulp of air. Or two. Or three.

I know lots of moms sending their sons and daughters off to college. We have not been a part of that universal exodus. My little bird has already left our nest. My heart is going out to each of them though. I want to care for them and check on them and be there for them. And so I will, swallowing that pesky lump as I go.

I am glad we had this chat, Little Blog. Let's just keep that whole breathing thing between you and me.