It’s done. It’s really happened. I’m on my own again. This weekend, my daughter moved into her own apartment. I can officially say I am an empty nester. Now, I just have to figure out what that means.

Many people questioned why I encouraged my daughter to move into her own place. Simply put, it was time. She’s a college graduate with a full-time career. It’s time to establish her own home and her own life. She needs to make her own decisions and take care of her own needs. Her social life needs to be her own and not one that includes her mom. She needs to come and go without having to ask permission. She needs to be responsible for her own schedule and her own dog. She needs the excitement of being on her own.

Will I miss her? Of course I will. I detest coming home to an empty house. But it was time. I will talk to or see her with great regularity. She’s only 15 minutes away. But it’s time to put some distance between us. We have been extremely close since her dad died. I have been as dependent upon her as she has been on me. I’ll miss the silly faces and laughs at odd times of the day. But it’s time.

It’s time to stop taking every moment for granted. It’s time to consciously think about meeting for dinner or coffee or shopping. It’s time to think about carving out the time and not just squeezing in a moment or two because it’s convenient. It’s time to move forward into adulthood. It’s time to stand back and watch her look to the future. It’s time to stop holding everything in the past. It’s just time.