So we got Ricky off on a plane out of LAX, back to his new home state of Montana. He barely looked back. …
(Of course, that might have been because we barely got him there on time.)
Here’s what happened: We screeched up to the curb at Delta about ten minutes before his flight was supposed to leave (bad us – we had all decided to do important things that day, like go see The Dark Knight together and then get In-N-Out. … we’re as bad as the teenagers …). Anyway, we screeched up; Ricky hopped out to get his suitcase; I gave him the fastest hug in the universe; Superman did, too; and then he was off! It was weird to say goodbye that way.
But really, our morning at the theater to watch The Dark Knight – all five of us, even – was the better “goodbye.”
We had a good summer with him, although his summers are made up now of mostly visiting friends and then working to earn school money. And something tells me he might not come home at all next summer – he’s settling in, it seems, in Montana. This year, he’s renting a house, has a new job at the newspaper, and has his “Montana friends.” But we’ll see.
He’s drifting into adulthood.
And we’re letting him.
It’s the thing that parents do, right?