Why College Drop-Off Felt Like Rewinding the Tape, Fast-Forwarding My Heart, and a Punch to the Gut

Photo by Gérôme Bruneau on Unsplash

You know that feeling, right? That knot in your stomach, a strange cocktail of immense pride and a hollow ache that settles deep in your chest. That was me, earlier this month, as the air was just starting to hint at autumn’s crisp arrival. The leaves hadn’t quite decided to turn, but there was a definite shift, both in the season and in my world.

The college drop-off day delivered a trifecta of emotional experiences I truly wasn't prepared for. It was a flashback, a flash-forward, and a gut punch, all rolled into one.

Let's start with the **flashback**. As we unloaded boxes and arranged her dorm room, my mind kept rewinding the tape. One minute I was carefully placing her new duvet, the next I was back in the delivery room, holding a tiny, squirming bundle. Then it was her first wobbly steps, the kindergarten drop-off where she gripped my hand a little too tight, the scraped knees, the awkward middle school dances, the driving lessons where I clutched the passenger door. Seriously, where did those years go? It feels like I blinked, and my little girl grew into this incredible young woman, ready to stride out onto her own stage.

Then came the **flash-forward**. Amidst the echoes of the past, my mind leaped ahead. I pictured her navigating campus, making new friends, figuring out tough assignments, maybe even falling in love (eep!). I saw her struggling, succeeding, stumbling, and finding her footing. It’s the flash-forward to a future I won't be directly overseeing every minute, a life that is now wholly hers to shape. And while my heart is bursting with prayers for her journey, it also wrestled with the shift in my own role. My job description just changed from "active manager" to "supportive consultant, available for calls at appropriate times."

And finally, the **gut punch**. After the goodbyes, the hugs that lingered a little too long, the promises to call (which I know will be more texts than calls), we got back in the car. Just me, my husband, and the echoing silence in the backseat where she'd been chattering just hours before. The drive home felt impossibly long and impossibly empty. That first evening, walking past her quietly dark room, seeing the space where she usually left her shoes or a half-finished book… that’s when the tears came. It’s a strange kind of grief, isn’t it? Not a loss, but a profound letting go of a chapter, coupled with an overwhelming surge of pride for the brave, independent person she's become.

I’m usually pretty good at keeping it together, a master of the "it's fine, I'm fine, everything's fine" routine. But that day? The mascara wasn't just for show. Yet, even amidst the raw emotion, there's a deep, quiet trust. A belief that she's exactly where she's meant to be, and that God's got her, every step of the way. And me too, even if my heart feels a little like Swiss cheese right now.

So yeah, college drop-off. It’s a messy, beautiful, bewildering cocktail of emotions. A testament to a love so big it hurts to let it stretch its wings. If you’ve walked this road, or are about to, I’d genuinely love to hear how it felt for you. Did your own heart do a little time warp too?

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