This is for the parents missing their big kids today.
I once told my teenager I missed her when she was standing not five feet away from me in our kitchen.
I’d been hit by a wave of longing for her while I was eating chicken tenders, of all things. I’d remembered how, when this child was younger and we spent a lot of time together running errands in between her big sister’s practices and classes and events, we’d often pick up a couple of pieces of chicken from the grocery store deli counter because they provided some on-the-go protein for my girl who wasn’t otherwise a big meat eater. For years, I had chicken-tender shrapnel in the crevices of my minivan.
I thought about all this that day, and so when my daughter stopped by after school for what we referred to as her “layover” before dance, I told her, “I miss you.” She said, “I miss you, too,” without requiring an explanation.
Maybe you’re missing a teenager who just started driving solo, and while it’s mostly fabulous not to be a full-time chauffeur anymore, you’ve given up car conversations or at least the comfort of being in the same space at the same time on a regular basis.
Maybe you’re missing a big kid who has pulled away from you.
Maybe you’re missing a teen who is just so busy with good things they’re rarely home.
Maybe you’re missing a child who has changed so much as they’ve gotten older that they seem like a stranger to you.
Maybe you’re missing a young adult whose heart—or a big piece of it, anyway—now belongs to a boyfriend or girlfriend or spouse.
Maybe you’re missing your college or military kid who took part of your heart with them to campus or base.
Maybe you’re missing a career kid who is forging their own life, and while you are so proud of them, you miss when they lived more of life where you could witness it firsthand.
Maybe you’re missing a big kid who hasn’t done any of these things but is getting ready to do them—and so you’re missing them ahead of time.
As parents, we want to give this missing a voice and listen between the lines to what it’s saying.
This missing speaks of relationship and connection. It speaks of history together. It speaks of shared memories. It speaks of future memories to be made.
Loudest of all, it speaks of love.
Most days, I’m truly glad I miss my older kids, because it means there’s so much good to miss. I dare not take this for granted.
It’s good from our shared yesterdays (chicken-tender shrapnel and all). It’s good that makes me look forward to what we might share tomorrow.
So, while I loosen my grip on what was, I’m holding on tight to the hope of what might be. I don’t want to miss any of it.
by Elizabeth Spencer