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4 months, 27 days, 17 hours … but who’s counting?

Well, finally. He’s gone.

Man, I didn’t think he was ever gonna leave. Talk about an overstayed spring break, sheesh!

I mean, that kid’s been home for what, like, five months now? Well, four months and 27 days … and 17 hours and 42 minutes. It would’ve been five months on the nose this Tuesday, the 18th.

Wait, am I a day off because of the leap year? Er, what I meant was, who’s counting?

Certainly not me. It’s not like I care. I say, “Good riddance, kid.”

Yeah, outta sight, outta mind — that’s my story and it’s sort of stuck to my face it at this point.

Oh no, wait, those are crumpled Kleenex bits. ‘Cause I’m bawling buckets — of bliss. Mmm, hmm. These are like, happy tears!

See, I’m super glad my son is back at school.

Indeed, off to junior year-dom. Shoot, he’s an upper classman! In my day, he’d be a BMOC though I’m a 1,000 percent sure that’s not acceptable to say now.

But why wouldn’t I be ecstatic for his adventure to continue? He is, after all, an A-student. A team captain. A fully baked grown-up. Living offsite with his swim pals in a charming little townhouse on the cusp of campus.

Yep, no more drab dorm rooms for Kyle Kimerer, a’ight?

That guy’s shuffled off to Buffalo — three hours away from me. In the middle of the apocalypse. At arguably the most tumultuous time in our nation’s modern history.

Yeah, I guess you could say I’m overjoyed.

Sigh.

Who needs him around, anyway?

Making me laugh and keeping me company while I begrudgingly adjusted to “work from home” life. He made the transition totally tolerable. OK, fine, he made my new routine fun, if you must know.

He totally set up my hacienda headquarters, linking up my laptop, sorting out my sound system, situating my seating, and literally lighting up my orbit. Whatevs.

Look, he made tons of noise during the day, anyway. What with all the lovely living room piano playing and the introducing me to all the hippest, most hysterical TikTok posts and what not.

By the by, who even knew there was such an incredibly ridiculous way to waste an entire day? I honestly wouldn’t even have a clue about the social media channel du jour if not for that meddlesome son of mine.

Because, when I hear “Tic Toc” (other than the obvious clock reference), I think about a long-gone, local grocery store. Anyone else remember that funky-looking food mart with the big red apple on the roof? Well, ironically, this generation downloads THEIR TikTok through an Apple. The more things change, I suppose? I digress.

Back to that annoying house hanger-on-er. So he constantly cheered me up during, you know, the darkest days I have ever had in all of my 52 years. Lifting my grieving daughter’s heart from desolation with his wicked wit and infectious laugh. Big deal.

It’s not like it’s ripping my pumper into four gazillion tattered shreds that, starting tomorrow, my house will be neater, quieter, calmer … and completely awful. #ImNotCryingYoureCrying

Get outta here, kiddo. Go be brilliant and bold and wonderful and kind and awesome on your collegiate journey. Just do your old Ma a favor — be safe and well, ‘kay? And maybe hit me up once in a while, capisce? I mean, strictly for cooking tips … not because I need to hear your voice or anything. #LoveYouKyle

• Kimerer is a columnist and blogger who’s currently in the fetal position under her makeshift desk. Read her blog at www.patriciakimerer.com.

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