FLEEING THE NEST

The U-Haul truck is packed up and sitting in the driveway. The Mistress of Sarcasm’s car is loaded with miscellaneous personal effects. In a short while, we’ll be headed out, beginning a two-day trek to the northwestern reaches of the great State of Connecticut... the Mistress’s new home.

This is a bittersweet moment.

The Mistress has been on her own, more or less, for many years: technically, the Missus and I have been Empty Nesters for roughly a decade, depending on how you define the term. But, unlike her Elder Sister, the Mistress has always been close at hand even when not sharing household arrangements... never more than a four- or five-hour drive away.

That is about to change.

It will be a big adjustment for all of us, but for She Who Must Be Obeyed and me, it brings back memories of that moment fourteen years ago when we watched Elder Daughter disappear down the entrance to the subway in Boston as our taxi swept us away to Logan Airport for our Houston-bound flight. We would no longer be right there to soothe the little bumps and bruises of daily life, no longer on the spot in the event of (Gawd forbid) a Big Problem suddenly arising. Our baby would be on her own in a very real sense.

Now it’s déja vu all over again, as the immortal Yogi Berra is said to have said... and our other baby will be far away.

Look, it’s not as though she’s a snot-nosed little kid. But when you have daughters, they’re always your babies.

Godspeed, Mistress! I wish you nothing but good things without limit as you begin your life as a Connecticut Country Girl. Just remember - it gets cold as a witch’s tit there in the winter. Warm underwear is your friend, and don’t forget to wear a hat. And your galoshes.