Brother Epa will get this, Brother Pasto will one day

Today we moved our youngest daughter into college. I'm not sure who was more nervous or excited. Excited for her as we were the other girls of course.

But nervous? Why?

It's not as though we haven't done this before. Granted the first time was twelve years ago (HOLY CRAP!) and the last time was 11 years ago (HOLY CRAP! again).

In those intervening years both of the older girls have moved out and away, some far away. The wife and I have had 5 jobs, 4 vehicles and now 4 grandchildren (but stay tuned).

You would think we would be skilled and smooth about this.

But this was different. This was moving our last child out. Not away to camp or to visit one of her sisters for a few weeks in the summer.

Moving her out and on her own (of a sorts) to return only for holiday breaks and a few months in the summer. And the occasional weekend since she is going close to home.

This is different because for the last 30 years 5 months and 11 days I have primarily self identified (as it is all the rage to say today) as a father. Which means my schedule has more often than not been dependent on theirs. Getting them to school and band and concerts and dance class (I read sooo many books sitting in that corner chair waiting for her) and Friday Night Lights at Don Thomas and doctor appointments and to work and home again and planning meals and mowing and trips to the gym or just a night out with the spouse around that schedule.

Birthday parties and big Christmas parties and Bigger Graduation parties

Packing lunches

The very dicey tango around the bathroom when everyone is trying to get ready for work or school

Having their music drown out mine (which is no small feat)

And their TeeVee shows louder than mine or "Dad could you turn your TeeVee down please!"

Having laughing giggling friends over

Going out with friends Dad! Not sure when I'll be back!

Going out with a boy dad (NOW JUST A DOGGONE MINUTE!)

And waiting up for them in that EZ chair until I fell asleep. But never locking up until I knew they were home

And the occasional midnight rescue mission when their friends car proved less than reliable

Or the party (or its' guests) were real duds

And all the other noisy boisterous joyous sometimes cranky cantankerous happy sad moody loud sullen heartbreaking heart thrilling things that fill your every sense when you are a committed (mind yer manners folks) primarily self identifying creature known as a parent. And loving every mnute of it.

And now, suddenly, that chapter closes.

30 years 5 months and 11 days and

It's over.

They have all left.

And already

the quietude

is thunderous.