At the beginning of the year, I wrote a blog article on why I let my daughter move out. She had been hounding me for months, trying to get me to agree that she could move in with her father who lived four hours away. I refused at first. I [...]
My 14-year-old daughter, DQ, is moving out. It’s weird, I never thought I’d type these words before she turned 18. But here I am, standing by as she packs up her bags and prepares to leave the nest. My nest. The one I have padded with protection and comfort since the day she was born, through a messy divorce, during financially tight times, and in her tumultuous teen years. She is flying the coop with my assistance when I drive her a full three hours away to live with her father. And this might just be the hardest thing I have ever done in my life.