The Rhythm of a Mom With a College Kid

Living in rhythm does not mean every moment is filled with joy. It means allowing ourselves to feel every emotion a season brings.

Today, my oldest daughter left to begin her junior year of college.

I cannot believe the summer is already over.

It was one of those summers I wish I could hold onto a little longer.

I loved watching her and her dad cook together in the kitchen, sometimes with her sister joining them. I loved seeing her snuggle with all our furry little buddies and watching the sisters spend their days working out, laughing, exploring, and creating memories together.

We shared an incredible family vacation in Cabo, Mexico. We snorkeled, swam, sailed, explored, and gathered around meals together. I even discovered that she had been quietly learning to play the guitar—and that she is really good at it.

It was epic.

And then it was time for her to leave.

The sadness I feel is real. But so is the joy.

I am sad because I will miss her presence in our home. I will miss the everyday moments—the conversations in the kitchen, the sound of her laughter, and simply knowing that she is nearby.

At the same time, I am filled with excitement for everything waiting for her. She is stepping into work week with five new sisters, followed by rush, classes, friendships, opportunities, and another year of becoming more fully herself.

This season is not one emotion.

It is many emotions arriving together.

And that is what it means to live in rhythm with life.

Rhythm Is Not the Same as Constant Happiness

We sometimes believe that living our best life should feel joyful all the time.

But living in rhythm does not mean avoiding sadness, disappointment, uncertainty, or grief. It does not mean forcing ourselves to be positive when our hearts are hurting.

Living in rhythm means being present enough to feel what is true.

It means allowing joy to be joy and sadness to be sadness—without requiring one to cancel out the other.

I can be deeply grateful for the summer we shared and still wish it were not over.

I can be proud of the woman my daughter is becoming and still feel the ache of her absence.

I can trust that she is exactly where she is meant to be and still shed tears when I walk past her quiet room.

Balance tells us that everything should remain steady and evenly distributed. Rhythm reminds us that life moves through seasons. Some seasons ask us to hold on. Others ask us to release. Many ask us to do both at the same time.

For the women who are standing in this rhythm of life with me, here are three ways we can move through this transition with greater intention.

1. Let Every Emotion Belong

You do not have to choose between being happy for your child and being sad for yourself.

Both emotions belong.

You may feel proud, excited, lonely, relieved, worried, grateful, uncertain, and heartbroken—sometimes within the same hour.

Rather than judging those emotions, pause and name them.

Take a walk. Sit quietly with a cup of tea. Write in your journal. Breathe deeply. Let the tears come when they need to come.

Try completing this sentence:

I am feeling ______ because ______, and I am willing to make space for it.

The emotion does not need to be solved immediately. It simply needs to be acknowledged.

This is a beautiful time for a small daily micro-retreat: ten intentional minutes to step away from the noise, listen inward, and ask yourself what you need today.

Living in rhythm begins with telling ourselves the truth about how we feel.

2. Create a New Ritual of Connection

Your relationship with your child is not ending. Its rhythm is changing.

The daily conversations and shared routines may become texts, phone calls, voice messages, care packages, and visits. Instead of trying to recreate the way your relationship used to be, create a ritual that supports the relationship you are building now.

Perhaps it is a Sunday evening phone call, a weekly photo exchange, a morning text before a big day, or a shared playlist that helps you remain connected across the distance.

Choose something that feels supportive without becoming another obligation for either of you.

Then create a ritual for yourself as well.

Light a candle when the house feels especially quiet. Take a morning walk. Call a friend who understands this season. Make the meal your child loves and send them a picture. Create a space where missing them becomes an expression of love rather than something you need to push away.

The goal is not to manage every part of your child's experience. It is to remain connected while giving both of you the freedom to grow.

3. Listen for What This Season Is Opening in You

When our children leave, the quiet can feel overwhelming.

Our first instinct may be to fill it—to add more work, more commitments, more noise, or more responsibility.

But before filling the space, listen to it.

Ask yourself:

• What part of me is ready for more attention?
• What gift have I been waiting to bring forward?
• What friendship, dream, practice, or purpose is asking for room in my life?

This does not mean moving on from motherhood. It means allowing motherhood to evolve while continuing to become the woman you are meant to be.

Choose one small action that honors this new season.

Return to something you love. Begin a morning practice. Take a class. Reconnect with a friend. Spend time in nature. Give ten minutes a day to a dream you have set aside.

You do not need to reinvent your entire life. You only need to remain open to what this season may be inviting you toward.

To the Moms in This Season With Me

This is a special message for the women who are sending a child to college or welcoming them back for another year.

You are not doing this season wrong because your heart feels heavy.

Your sadness can exist beside your gratitude.

Your longing can exist beside your pride.

Your tears can exist beside your trust.

Our children leaving home does not empty motherhood of its meaning. It changes its rhythm.

We are learning how to love them without always having them within reach. We are learning how to release them without disconnecting from them. And perhaps we are also learning how to return to ourselves.

This is what it means to make a retreat a way of life.

We pause.

We notice.

We honor what is true.

And then, with love, we choose how we want to meet what comes next.

To all my fellow Soul Sister moms in this season: we are connected.

What are you most excited about for your college or university student this year—and what are you learning about yourself as you enter this new rhythm together?