My baby has left home for a whole week. Okay, my "baby" is sixteen, but she's out-of-state with a bunch of strangers! Okay, the "strangers" are all from her Dad's church. One of the by-products of divorce and co-parenting is that I have to trust his and her judgement more than I might if we shared all of the same activities and acquaintances.
When I whined about not seeing her for a week and hugged her goodbye, she laughed at me and reminded me she had been away for a week at church camp once. "But you were still in NC and I could come get you if I needed to," I told her. She is all the way in Alabama, and when she called me at almost 11 last night, the distance really sank in when she told me they are in a different time zone!
The group is on a mission trip, helping with home repairs. She wasn't sure of the details but said she knew they would be building a handicap ramp and doing some deck work. Her packing list required a hammer, screw drivers and a toolbelt, and suggested they wear long pants to work. My baby, doing hard labor?
I'm excited for her, really, but this is just another milestone reminding me how fast the years have gone, how fast the next few will fly.