I sit with my younger children, a four year old and two eight year olds, talking about their big sister who is going off to college today and they hammer me with questions.

"Why does she have to go?"

"Is she going to sleep there?"

"How long does she have to go?"

"Can she come home at Christmas?"

"Is she ever coming back?"

And they share their feelings.

"I don't want her to go!"

"I'll miss her."

Suddenly I realize I have goofed.

I have been all wrapped up in how the move will be for my college-bound child. I've equipped her with storage bins and clothing and blankets and endless advice that wells up from me like a bubbling fountain.

And I've been caught up in how the move will affect me: how will my relationship to my daughter change, how it will feel to have her gone most of the time. I've wondered if she will email enough, talk to me enough in this time of such great change in her life.

I've been so caught up with all of that, that I haven't done a good job preparing the youngest, most vulnerable ones of my children for this rip in the fabric of our family.

Of course they are concerned. Of course they are fearful. What a dunderhead I am. I sit answering their questions as best as I can, playing catch-up and hoping they will adjust, hoping we will all adjust to this new season of our family. The season of letting go.