Always.

"Mommy? Mommy?" a raspy little voice squeaked from the booster in the back seat of my minivan. "When we ah all at school, will you miss yo childwen?"

I looked in the rear view mirror and locked eyes with a baby girl who wasn't jamming to Lizzo on the radio, who wasn't eating her second-breakfast Cheerios I had packed in a baggy, who really had not a care in the world in that moment except to know that her Mama cared for her.

It was the question of the morning--that "will you miss me" one--because not even an hour before as I was walking Talmage to school he leaned into my goodbye hug and whispered, "Mom, when we're all at school are you going to be happy, or sad?"

It was Cora's first solo day of preschool. It was the first full week of elementary school for T, Ev and Quinny. It was the first day of morning childlessness for me. That Monday morning, we all felt the change in the air and were searching for answers just out of reach.

I found their questions so touching, so genuine. They long to be longed for, find peace and security in knowing that even when we are apart, there is a hole just their size in my very soul. And maybe the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. I'm thirty-four and when I see the adventures of my empty-nester parents I still find myself wondering, "When they are on a trip, do they miss their children? When they are away, do they miss me?"

Never one to let time get away from me, I have had every childless morning planned out for the whole week. Monday: pedicure. Tuesday: dance class. Wednesday: beach walk. Thursday: temple. And then of course there were errands and chores and incidentals that filled in the cracks. I've gotten so much accomplished and I've really enjoyed some quiet mental space to create, and think, practice self-love and be productive. I'm still finding my footing with free time, but I'm grateful for it nonetheless. Time is a precious gift, and I try hard not to waste it.

But did I miss them like they hoped I would? The answer to that tender question from my oldest and my youngest remained the same at the end of the week as it did on that busy Monday morning when I wrapped them in my arms and told them that I'd miss them terribly when we were apart. And I meant it. There's no place I'd rather be than with the four of them (on a beach, in the summer, let's be honest). I will always miss them when they're not around. Always. They'll do their things and I'll do mine and I hope we all feel ridiculously happy and overwhelmingly fulfilled in our many adventures, but I also hope they know that wherever I am, I will never stop thinking, longing and loving them.