Yesterday, Birdie and I stood in the evening shadows outside Pomfret Hall, her dorm at the University of Arkansas. We had unpacked her things, met her roommate and gone to dinner with the roommate and her family. We had even made a final run to Wal-Mart. Nothing remained undone.
Now, in the dark, Biride hugged me tight and I hugged back. The dog Tequila wound her leash around us. Birdie sniffed. I felt her shoulders start to heave. Even a good good-bye--one nearly 19 years in the making--hurts, I thought.
Staving off the tears, I unwound Birdie's hug. Gently, I grabbed her shoulders. I reminded Birdie: She is a good daughter, with good parents, and this moment of letting go is one that she and I are ready for. She nodded, then turned and walked through the doors of Pomfret Hall. Big Guy accompanied her as Tequila and I waited.
Alone for the moment, I felt my heart begin to break and prepared for my tears to flow. Then I spotted three juvenile skunks skittering along the dorm's brick wall. The mini-fleet of wildlife refocused my thinking. Big Guy returned, with Birdie in tow for one final good-bye. We hugged the brisk hug of good-byes already said. Then Birdie left for good, armed with one new bit of Mom advice: Watch out for skunks. Four-legged or otherwise.
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