Watching someone you love leave is really, really hard.
It's really, really dumb.
Goodbyes are just new hellos? Hogwash.
Parting is such sweet sorrow? Ridiculous.
Endings are just new beginnings? Bah.
Except that, of course, they are.
Tomorrow - just a few short hours from now, actually - my baby sister starts a new adventure. And contrary to the horrifyingly pained look on my face right now, I could not be happier for her.
Elizabeth. Sweet thing. Good soul. This is what I wish for you.
I wish for you a California full of sunshine and happiness and relatively little quaking earth.
I pray you'll have a million new experiences with your husband and your kids, see things you never dreamed of, and add chapter after kick ass chapter to the beautiful story of your life.
I want you to feel independence, and confidence, and your own strength. The rest of us feel it all the time, and it is awe-inspiring. You are awesome.
I hope you discover a deep, soul-binding love for your home (your real home. your true home.) and that your eyes light up with connection every time you see an Ohio State sweatshirt on someone in your New State.
I need you to know that every moment you're gone you'll be desperately missed, fervently prayed for, and lovingly thought about.
I know you know you'll be fine. Better than fine. So much better than fine. And I know you know we know you'll be fine. And hell, we'll be fine ourselves.
All we ask is this. Keep being a phenomenal mother, so those towheaded children who have looked the part of SoCal since the day they were born remember us. Keep being an exceptional wife, and don't let Dave make fun of my pants anymore. (That has very little to do with the rest of this, but any way you can give me a hand I'd appreciate.) And please, for the love of all good things, become a better texter. Seriously, you suck at it. Like, S.U.C.K. at it. And we'll need to hear from you.
Whatever you need, ask. I know it's not always the easiest thing for you. Ask anyway. A few measly little miles isn't going to keep any of us from you. Not really.
I love you, kid. I am so thankful for three and a half years here, getting to know grown-up you. I'm so appreciative of every time Dave let us loose for some girl time. And I'm so grateful to know your children. I know without a doubt it's why God brought me home. I'm honestly a little irked that He's now sending you as far away as possible, but we're working through it. We're cool.
Yep. I love you, kid. Go get em. And then come back.
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