When my oldest daughter was six months old she was pretty attached to me. So attached that every time I put her down or someone else held her she cried - very hard. It wasn't great, but you could hardly blame her as we had spent a whole lot of time together. We were inseparable.
And now all these years later I am the one crying - very hard as I drop her off at the airport. Missing her already.
There is a slight panic that sets in right about now when everyone prepares to leave again, when we are all sitting reading in front of the fire in the evening and I hatch a plan in my head, a desperate plan: I know you could all live here forever, we have plenty of room, we all get along so well, we will grow our food together, I will cook and care for you, forever. It is crazy in the most selfish way. I keep it in my head.
Instead, I send daughter number one off with a handknit pair of fingerless mitts. Perfect for texting me, for drawing with, for using when operating power tools, for keeping her safe and warm, for living her own independent dynamic and creative life. It will have to be enough.
Happy perfect knitting weather weekend all!