When I got back from my trip to DC last Friday, #1 Son had moved out. This was no surprise - he's in his 20s and so it's time, and he'd been planning this for a couple months.
But it was strange to come back to an empty room. Well, a messy empty room, which seems like an oxymoron.
I feel quite torn by all this. Not that I want him living in my basement into his 30s - after all, it was time for him to stretch his wings - but this is the first time since 1992 that he wasn't living under my roof.
Maybe I'll go through my whole life seeing him like this:
His first beer at the Hoffbrauhaus in 1996.
I must confess that I'm rather disappointed in myself - my sentimental reaction is so common as to be boring. It's easy enough for me to be boring, so I shall endeavor to be less so in the future.
But one down and one more to go. When Camp Borepatch gets sold, that will happen too.