Steps not taken before.

We took our son to college a couple of weeks ago. Thus the no-blogging for some time. Busy doesn't describe this summer. The trip went wonderfully. No stresses. We did not forget anything big or important. Our son's friends were sitting on ready, waiting for him to arrive as he chose to wait until the very last day to move into the dorm. We pulled our cars right up to his dorm. His friends spotted us and helped unload his stuff . It was completely stress free. I had heard about the horror stories on move in day. I suddenly realized how smart our son was to choose to wait until the following day. We unpacked his stuff. Got his bed put together. Hung posters. Made a few adjustments with organization. It was actually quite fun. His roommates popped in and out. Their parents arrived later after trips to Target. We ate a quick lunch with our son before he took off to find his classes with his buddies. We returned to his dorm to make a final check-list, written ever so perfectly by his little sister. She worked hard for her big brother. Organizing his toiletries, lining his shelves, arranging his books. When it became evident there really wasn't anything left to do we made our way down the hallway to the staircase to say goodbye. I was carefully swallowing the frog in my throat. I tried not to make it too obvious. My husband's chin was quivering, his voice cracking from it's usual deep echo. Our son, with his trademark hat from his Hawaii trip, was tripping his brim to the floor. The little sister was wiping tears, causing her shoulders to shake, just like she used to do as a small child when her nap had not been long enough. Her soft, silent cry fell among the empty steps, bouncing from each one, seeming to make it's way downward to the bottom level. I wrapped my arm around her shoulders. I could feel the sweat and heat rise from her heartache. Her big brother was staying and for the first time in her life....he would not be with her at home. Neither one of them remembers life without the other. Born two years apart. 18 and 16 years strong and close. I see my son's large, sincere dark eyes focus on his little sister's hurt. Confused. He wasn't quite ready for her melting in the staircase. His long, tanned arms offer a hug to her. Few words other than "I love you." A fellow walks past us and remarks, "moving in day." I am the only one left with a voice to speak. I tell our son how much we love him. To call anytime. To know he can always come home. To ALWAYS BE SAFE. And then I thank him for the privilege of being his mother. He turns his bright green shirt to the doorway and walks through as we make our stumbling way down the stairs. My heart isn't heavy. My steps seem a little lighter. We aren't leaving him.....we are sharing him. It's time. He's ready. He will always be his sister's big brother. He will always be our son. New places. New stairs.