I’ve said goodbye twice this week. Thank God they were not permanent goodbyes, but they were farewells, knowing I wouldn’t see that person again for quite a while.

The first was to my mom. Even though we talk every day on the phone, it’s not the same as seeing her sitting at my kitchen table, working the newspaper’s crossword puzzle, a cup of coffee nearby. 

I watched her as she worked the puzzle – in pen, she’s that confident – and knew to treasure these mornings. Soon she’d be back home, both of us going about the routine of our lives. So I savored every moment of the week she was here.

The next goodbye was to my eldest son, Nick. He’d flown in from Taiwan for a quick one-day stayover before jetting off to his step-brother’s wedding in Cancun.

On his way back through, he had a seven-hour layover in Houston, and I wouldn’t have missed an opportunity to spend time with him for anything.

He arrived on the day I came back from Mom’s. Before leaving her house in Louisiana, I hugged her one last time in the driveway, sniffling after I turned the corner, knowing I’d miss having her all to myself, hating to say goodbye. 

But I knew I had a hello waiting for me in Houston with Nick during his layover. He’d arranged to have dinner with friends, and I didn’t want to intrude. So we spent two hours shopping and then had to say our goodbyes.

He hugged me so tight, I couldn’t catch my breath. But that was okay because I was squeezing him back with the same force.

I smiled as big as I could, told him to have a great dinner and to call me when he landed. He drove off with his friends, not seeing me boo-hooing as I drove away in the other direction.

Life is a series of hellos and goodbyes. They start when we’re a baby. One day, we’re big enough for a big-kid bed, and we feel so grown up.

Mom and Dad, on the other hand, feel a pang of sadness because their little one is taking steps toward being independent and not needing parents as much.

There’s the first day of school. Every year, I took a picture of my boys getting on the school bus with fresh haircuts, new socks and shoes, and a slightly worried smile on their faces.

I remember saying goodbye to them, waving until the bus was out of sight, and then following the bus to make sure they got off and into their classrooms safe and sound. I’d wait around until I knew they’d said “hello” to the teacher, and then I’d leave.

They thought I was being ridiculous, and maybe I was, but it was hard to let go to their needing me.

One of the hardest goodbyes was when they left for college. I knew nothing would ever be the same again once they checked into that dorm room.

They could come and go as they please, attend class if they wanted or sleep the day away. So when I hugged them goodbye and drove away from the campus, I knew I was saying farewell to much more than their physical bodies.

I was saying goodbye to their childhoods.

But they were saying “hello” to their adult lives. Instead of crying, I had to smile because the best, for them, was yet to be. And that’s the way life is – a goodbye on one end means a hello on the other.

Now when we say goodbye, we give each other hugs and say “love you” before breaking away and going our separate ways.

And look forward to the next hello.

 This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.