The goose flew the nest this morning. Twenty-four years old and it still twists my heart to say good-bye. I’ve truly enjoyed these last few days together as we chatted, tried new recipes, went shopping, and played lots of games. We’re forging a new type of relationship together, no longer simply parent/child, but also becoming friends. I like that.

But I don’t like coming home to an empty house.

I’m so proud of who my goose has become. Of what my goose has accomplished: completing the master’s program, starting the doctoral program, falling in love with teaching… Making a life - a good life. But it would be nice if that life were a little bit closer to my own.

I guess, this is a tiny taste of how Grammy felt when she watched all of us pile onto a 747 to fly to Africa. Or how my parents felt when they dropped my brother and I off at boarding school and began the long drive home. Or how God might have felt, when Jesus slipped into skin and lived down here with us for a bit. The first empty nest.

I suppose the second was in Eden, when Adam and Eve slipped out of the garden. Did they look back as they left? Were they sad? Was God standing there watching them leave? I know he was loving them. I hope they knew it, too.

Just as I hope my goose knows it. Just as I need to remind myself now and then.

My nest may be empty, but my heart is so full. The creator of the Garden loves me and is preparing a nest for me that will never be empty.

Plus, my goose is really only a text away.