Shelby came home Thursday evening because she needed to have her wisdom teeth extracted. She and Jordan were home the week before for her consult, and they took the train home so that Jordan could begin her semester and Shelby could get some stuff settled for her semester in Germany.
So, when they leave, it is one of the worst few hours for me. Usually, I'm a bit of a bitch the hours or so before they head back to Philadelphia (still can't call that home for them) because it means that my limited time with them is at an end. It means that things are once again out of my control. They will have to be the responsible ones, and I'll be reduced to text messages, Facebook postings, and the occasional phone call. I'll trust that everything I've said has registered some place in their brains and that they will make the right choices again and again.
Truly, it means that I won't get to see them. When I talked to Erika before Shelby's surgery, I told her I was a little freaked out over the whole thing. The last time Shelby had anesthesia, she was 18 months old and having tubes put in her ears. Getting your wisdom teeth removed is pretty routine, and it scared the shit out of me. What if? Add to that Shelby leaving for Germany in about seven weeks, the Girls being separated for the first time in their lives, and Jordan talking about grad school in Los Angeles. See what I mean? What if . . . I can't even fill in the blanks.
Dave is driving Shelby to the train station as I type this. I have a crap ton of grading to get done, so I have iTunes cranked and am working my way through a pile of essays and pop quizzes. I was making good headway, but then a sappy song came on, and I lost it. Guess I should be used to it by now, but the what ifs are multiplying.