I found my son’s university prospectus under the sofa and had to sit down

Dear Delyara, It was folded in half, a little creased, with one page marked. I picked it up thinking I would just put it on the table, but when I saw the page he had marked — accommodation costs, start dates, moving checklist — I suddenly had that strange maternal split in me. Pride and grief. At the exact same time. I have spent eighteen years washing his uniforms, reminding him about his lunch, cutting his birthday cake, telling him to bring a coat, checking fevers, waiting outside school gates, and now there is a brochure in my hand calmly describing the practical steps of him leaving. I knew this day was coming, obviously. That is not the same as being ready for the physical proof of it in your own living room. I sat down with the prospectus in my lap and let the feeling move through me before anybody came into the room and needed something ordinary.