Studies say that by the time our children turn 18, we've already spent about 98% of the time we'll ever spend with them under our roof. This year has been my son's senior year. My firstborn's final year of high school.

This is the last time I drop off the book that has quietly followed him since preschool: Oh, the Places You'll Go, filled with encouragement, wisdom, and love from the educators who have been part of his journey. The last ski season. The last high school dance. The last Scout event. The last of so many things.

Being a mother has been the greatest gift of my life, so this year has brought an array of emotions. I am incredibly excited for him and for the next chapter of his life. This is what I wanted for him all these years. Every year, beginning in elementary school during his educational planning meetings, I was asked about my long-term goals for him. My answer never changed: I wanted him to be able to attend a four-year university if he chose to. Now, here we are.

In the fall, he'll head to Campbell University to study business, and he'll be going with five of his closest friends.

The transition has been happening for years without me fully realizing it. At 15, he got his first phone and began spending more time socializing independently. Then came his driver's license and a job. More and more of his time at home was spent in his room doing homework, playing video games, or simply hanging out. Looking back, those weren't signs of distance. They were signs of growth. He was preparing for independence while preparing me for the loneliness I would feel when he left.

So where does that leave me? It leaves me somewhere between parenting a child and supporting a man. I'm learning the new balance between offering advice and stepping back. Between protecting and trusting. Sometimes that new balance makes me anxious, like the week he and his friends spent at our cabin in Kentucky after graduation. He had made the drive with us before, so I trusted his ability behind the wheel. He planned the entire week himself, including meals and activities and did an excellent job.

So why did I still worry? Why did I still check Life360 multiple times while he was on the road? Because it was a big step for both of us. His first adult trip was my first real lesson in letting go. That week was a preview of what lies ahead. He spreads his wings, and I learn my new role as the mother of a young adult.

He and his friends had the time of their lives. They kayaked through an underground cave. They went to a drive-in movie and car show. They played putt-putt and basketball in the rain. They had a shooting instructor come teach a class. They ended the week with a fireworks show, and it was perfect. What a wonderful way to celebrate graduating from high school.

I missed him that week, but my joy for him far exceeded my sadness. And I think that's how this next season will be. He'll spend the year discovering who he is, building his independence, and creating memories I'll only hear about later. I'll miss having him at home, but my happiness for him will outweigh the sadness.

My role as a mother has been evolving for the last 18 years. I went from Mama, to Mommy, to Mom, to Bruh, and now somehow back to Mom. Through every stage, I've also been his biggest fan, and that won't change. I'll still be cheering him on, celebrating his victories, and encouraging him through challenges... just a little farther away.

Because this healthy bird is leaving the nest in August.