The irony doesn’t escape me. It was nine months ago that I wrote my first Patch column about sending my daughter off to college, and with much pride, joy and relief, I welcomed her back home, if only for the summer. It was the same nine months, 19 years ago, that I was pregnant with her. This time seemed so much faster.

I have to admit that the first several weeks back in September were really hard. As much as I tried to prepare myself, keeping busy with work and staying connected to family and friends, there were days when I felt like my right arm was missing. I thought I was doing well by only texting every two or three days. Over parents’ weekend, I learned that it was too much. Okay, I could back off, except when I got the dreaded call, “Mom, don’t freak out. I’m in the hospital.” While I didn’t get on the next plane, the 3-day rule was off.  

We all settled into a new groove at home. There was less laundry (and fewer mistakes in sorting the laundry), less homework to monitor or help with, and I could start making recipes that included tomatoes—something I hadn’t done since she decided she didn’t like them many years ago. I learned to take only four plates out of the cabinet (but sometimes I forgot). And I loved spending more time with my other girls.

It was especially heartwarming when they would talk to each other on the phone or over Skype. I know they missed each other, too, even though they would never admit it.

She had a great year, just as I had hoped. She made wonderful friends, got involved on campus, worked hard, played hard, and had those life experiences that you only get in college. I don’t know many of her details, but I remember mine well. 

Last week, my now college sophomore came home, exhausted from finals, packing and driving, sad to have left her friends, and I’m sure more than a little unhappy about leaving her independence behind for the next three months.

It really won’t be so bad. We’ll focus on the perks, like home-cooked meals, shopping trips, and laundry service, even if it’s not perfectly sorted. I expect that we’ll have our ups and downs as we work through this transition, realizing that everyone in the house is going through it. The first child is always the test case, and I hope we will set a good precedent for the rest.

Friends tell me that their kids’ years in college are the fastest four years of their lives. If that’s true, then the next nine years will go by in a flash, as my three girls are launched into adulthood. I suspect that I’ll have that “missing limb” feeling each time they go, but I know this is proof that I’ve done my job.