I'm so confused right now. difficult child 1 drove off this morning, leaving home for the umpteenth time on an other one of his spontaneous adventures. He's moving to NH, he has New England in his blood. Never mind that he left a job which payed him $17/hr for being a mechanic, that he has no prospects for another job, no real home other than couch surfing at his brother's fiancée's grandparents' house. He's 23 y.o.. It's time for him to grow up. I know I'm supposed to detach. I cried when I lost sight of his car as it turned the corner. First I thought that it was because his twin had aborted himself so destructively from our family. Then I realized that the pain went further in time, back to my father leaving for all his trips through Europe, leaving us yet again. Twenty years of therapy and all the losses are still present in my soul. I miss those magical years raising twin boys. They were so much fun. They saw the world with such fresh eyes. I enjoyed their terrible two's, their three's, all the noise and laughter. Childhood is over so fast, I don't know where it went. I don't know how I got to be sixty so fast , all I know is that those good times only live in my memory. All my childhood homes have been sold or torn down. The difficult children' laughter and love for each other, my father's voice, all my dead relatives, the lemon trees, the olive trees, the wind filled with the smell of thyme, these all live in my head and when I am gone those moments of joy will be gone too. I guess this is what they mean when they talk about empty nest syndrome, though I still have one fledgling at home and she still is still growing her flying wings.