There are moments in life you know will come, yet you can’t prepare for them. Like seasons at their end, you know they come; you may even be anxious for them, but once they happen, you lament the past. You grieve what has gone by the wayside, even knowing it will return again, new.

I knew my son would one day leave home. I wanted that for him. It’s part of successful adulting; being ready to take on the responsibilities of your own life. His father and I are happy that our son was confident and mature enough to take his life into his own hands. At nineteen, that was remarkable. In a society where adolescents are less and less mature and self-reliant, our boy was equipped, educated, and emotionally empowered enough to do so. Win-win. For him, anyway. Mom had a different experience. August in January.

The Things We Plan For

We had planned for it his whole life. We taught our son everything he would need to succeed in his own version of life. We gave him the tools he would need, supported his individual thoughts and ideas about what he wanted to do and be in life, and steered him in the best directions, away from the worst, as best our own life experiences would allow.

He did the work. We did not do it for him. He listened and kept track of our wisdom as we shared it at the appropriate times. And here we were, nearing the day it would all blossom into the goal. Here I was, with the impending empty nest I thought I was prepared for, but with no clue what was coming.

The anticipation of returning to classes after a fun-filled summer was very real, if only to explain the feeling. You know the ones. You know it has to be done, so you accept it, buy supplies, organize yourself for the year ahead, and then count down the days until your summer is over.

Changes

There is a longing for autumn and for a different mindset, but at the same time there is a desperation to hold on to the carefree days of sunshine, happiness, warmth, and fun. So too was our son’s departure for Colorado after he had been recruited to a position there a month before he graduated.

We were prepared, but we weren’t. Okay, maybe I wasn’t. I’m not sure how my husband felt because men process differently than we do as women and moms.

When we heard the news that our son was coming home from school to pack up his life and move, I sprang into action. This was it, and I was going to make sure he had everything he needed for his new adventures.

More Plans, New Plans

I searched and found him a nice apartment; one I would have chosen to live in. I purchased boxes to pack his belongings, ordered furniture, shopped for staples to start a new home, and arranged the moving truck to take him away from us. All the business of taking care of the details to move him within the next two weeks kept my mind off the inevitable.

There was an amusing sense of wonder in this preparation. What would he be like? How would he find belonging among new people in his life? Scenario after scenario played in my mind like conversations you revisit after the actual conversations you have had, correcting what you said or did with what you should have. My mind was a ball of string, bundled neatly into one shape, while the strings wound up in it in a mess of directions.

It was inevitable. I always knew it. It was desirable, because who wants a child living at home forever? And yet, as I pre-packed things he would need, I did not anticipate the loss.

My summer was about to end, and I didn’t know what or when I would feel it. I was too busy to notice the effects. But then it happened. The day had arrived.

Goodbye, Old Friend

We spent the last normal Christmas together as a family of three. The presents were less about fun and more about the household items he should not go without. The last meal we ate together had been eaten. Trays of home-cooked meals, frozen for him to take with him so he could enjoy his old home in his new home, were packed in coolers with dry ice, and the truck was loaded and ready to go.

His father drove him out to his new life and stayed with him a few days to get him settled, while I cleaned up the now-empty bedroom that suddenly felt less alive and more like a black hole. The life had been sucked out of it. It was an empty canvas without purpose. It was a lonely thing. I felt lonely. And I cried.

I cried, seeing no evidence that there had ever been a life in that room, aside from scraped paint and tiny nail holes on the walls. It was barren, like a dead desert. My tears spilled for my baby, for the years of constant movement and noise that had suddenly stilled. My purpose and my routine as his mom were gone.

As I dusted and cleaned the emptiness, I reminisced, reflected, and went over the years, the sweet moments and the not-so-sweet, and I cried some more. Each one was no longer just a memory of a summer come to an end. They were now treasured memories, stories I would tell and retell, morsels of a delicacy I could see but no longer taste.

The longing for summer gave way to the reality of autumn. My mourning over the loss of my child gave way to the newness of fall’s vibrant colors as our son shone brightly in the splendor of his autumn of independence. My grieving turned to pride as I settled into the new season.

Your Child’s Spring

The past moved into the future. Our son’s future is bright; we are proud of it and excited for it. Each day of his life feels full of wonder. To him, everything is new, fresh, and full of amazement, and it’s infectious.

With every friend he makes, every relationship he builds, and every new thing he tries or does, we get to relive our youth. We get to remember our becomings. And life is new again.

I wonder if the fountain of youth isn’t the rebirth of excitement and wonder in life through our children’s eyes. It’s like revisiting Disney World as an adult with your child who has never been. You get to enjoy it all over again with renewed amazement.

The Next Season

Almost two years later, we are settled into our August. Summer, long forgotten, we have embraced the coziness of this season. A new phase of life, a new form of our relationship with our adult, no longer a child, and things are a new normal. This is the season of comfort. Cozy fires, comfort food, sweets in a little more abundance, and it is as it should be.

Winter will come soon enough, because like all things, it is inevitable. I won’t look back, except to remember the happy moments that made our life together. I will stay in the here and now and enjoy every second as it moves toward the next season. For now, we will embrace August and live in it.

I hope it is a long, long autumn season. When was your August?

(Published by Pen With Paper on Medium, August 2026)

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