I was folding laundry last night, watching some dumb reality show. Just… mundane stuff. You know, soccer jerseys, t-shirts, all my son’s clothes. He’s going away for college next month. To a big school, far away. Been planning it for months, years even. We’ve been so proud. Telling everyone, calling my cousins back home, my mother. So much excitement. And me, I’m supposed to be happy. Right? Is that what good parents do? But then I picked up his high school jersey. Number 10. The one he wore when they won districts. It was still kinda dirty from the last game, I guess I missed it. And I just… held it. It smelled like him. Like sweat and that cheap fabric softener and something else, I don’t know. Just *him*. And it hit me. Like a punch. Hard. This room. This whole house. It’s gonna be so quiet. Empty. My husband, he was in the living room, probably watching the news. He wouldn’t get it. He'd say "He’s a man now, this is good." My mother, she'd say "You raised him well, you should be proud." And I *am* proud. I really am. But I looked at that jersey and I just started crying. Not sniffles. Full on, ugly crying. Snot and everything. Just stood there in his messy room, holding a dirty shirt. Is that weird? Does everyone feel this? Like, I remember him being so small. And now he’s so big. Taller than me. Smarter too, probably. And I’m just… stuck. Like, what do I do now? My whole life has been about him. About them, my kids. Making sure they have more than I did. That’s what my parents always told me. Work hard. Make a better life for your kids. And I did it. But now what? What’s *my* life? It’s just… gone. Feels like part of me is just leaving with him. And I’m too old to start over. I don’t even know what I’d start over *with*. What do I even like to do? What am I good at, besides this? I just don’t know.