My son will be moving to Florida this weekend, and I am a basket case. I am happy for him and so proud, but I am deep into worry that only a mom or dad can experience.

I worry about him driving there — the roads, the weather. I worry about palmetto bugs. I worry about  hurricanes. I worry about being worried.

In all my worry, I  wonder what happened to that little boy I cuddled and how 25 years has passed since his birth. Now, this accomplished young man is on his way to a new experience in a great climate. He is so excited.

I’m excited for him. Now, if I can just stop being teary-eyed every time I think about it.

I should be getting used to these kids packing up and heading out on their own. One stepson moved to Pittsburgh during the summer, and my daughter has lived in Pittsburgh for nearly six years. When she was home for Christmas, she reminded me how emotional it was to leave each and every time when she first moved there. Now it’s not quite so bad. I do still have bursts of waterworks, though, when I walk upstairs and see empty bedrooms that used to be filled with kids.

It’s about 21 degrees as I write this. It will hit the high 70s and be sunny when my son unpacks in Florida this weekend. Well, I won’t have to worry about him being cold.

I can talk myself out of this worry, can’t I? I think hurricane season is over. He has GPS on his phone. I don’t know anything about palmetto bugs. Oh my gosh, I forgot about alligators! Something new to worry about!