One month from tomorrow we will load up our van and her car.
One month from tomorrow we will caravan to her university.
One month from tomorrow we will do our best to make her dorm room feel like home.
And one month from tomorrow we will drive away, part of our heart left behind.
I’ll miss seeing her stumble into the kitchen each morning, wiping the sleep from her eyes, hair piled on top of her head.
I’ll miss her laughter which fills the empty spaces.
I’ll miss hearing the lilt of her voice as she makes music in her room.
I’ll miss her coming in late, gently shaking me awake to let me know she’s home.
I’ll miss her.
But one month from tomorrow, she will start a new life, a life where she needs me just a little less than before.
And one month from tomorrow, she will find her people, her place, her calling.
One month from tomorrow, I will remind her of a few things: I’m always here if you need me; run to Jesus because He is faithful; do your laundry; I love you.
And one month from tomorrow, I will thank God as we celebrate her and her new adventure.
