The Final Goodbye. For Real.

Ariel is leaving tomorrow.

That's right. The past twenty hours have been insane.

We found out at 1 o'clock yesterday that she was being checked out of school to go meet her new foster parents along with her siblings. I had to call her while she was en route to explain what was happening so she wouldn't freak out when she got there.

While Ariel and Snow White were at the visits, I was able to get everything we needed for her move (rubbermaid boxes for all of her stuff and a photo album). Then at about 5 I get an email telling me that she has lice. Again.

She came with lice, and she leaves with lice. Usually I like symmetry in stories but this put me over the edge. So the night changed into a flurry of throwing bows into the trash, spraying a dangerous level of poison all over my house and slowly running everything through the washing machine. Let me tell you. trying to keep up with her emotional see-sawing while running a lice comb through her hair is not something I want to try again.


As for her move, she goes back and forth from being very happy to bawling about how much she is going to miss us. She adores her new foster mom, but I think is nervous about her new foster dad.

In all honesty, I think leaving my husband, the first true father she has ever known, will be the hardest for her. He has filled a need that she has had for so long, and I just pray that this new foster dad can do as good of a job as hubby has done. There is no doubt though, that she will miss him the most.


We are all writing her letters, and creating a "life-book" for her to take with her. Basically a photo album of her time here and all of the adventures, and  the people who came into her path. We are also having a brunch Saturday morning so my family can bring their letters and say goodbye.

I hope that turns out to be a good idea.


Personally I am numb with exhaustion. Last night ended very late, and this morning began very early (thanks again lice). I have a feeling the numbness will carry me through tomorrow, but Sunday is going to be a bad day.


Her leaving means my house will be cleaner, my car will smell better. There will be no trails of sand that lead to her shoe pile in her closet.

There will be no new permanent marker notations recording her height on my door frames, and grocery trips won't result in me needing a glass of wine.


But my house will be to quiet. Conversations will be too serious and my trees will be lonely for her climbing them. At night I will say one prayer instead of two, and only get a handful of good night hugs instead of 15.

There will be a void in my heart, and I don't know how much time I will need before I let another precious soul fill that space.