All of my gel pens are gone. My daughter, Lauren, must have snatched them up as she hastily packed yesterday for her junior year at Thomas Aquinas College.

As a seasoned coed, this time she wasn’t worrying about taking every single thing she might possibly need. Besides, she’s promising to come back in a few weeks to celebrate my birthday. It’s odd. I would have been perfectly content with a card, but she likes to come home and celebrate it. And school is just a mere three-hour drive away, so it’s doable.

This summer’s end, it’s harder than ever to part with her. We had a wonderful summer. I didn’t cook virtually the whole time. She was really into making salads — huge fruit concoctions with mangoes, raspberries, and watermelon. Or fancy green salads. She would “fry down” mushrooms and red peppers and toss them in. She also bought Brie a lot. She spared no expense with my credit card when she went to the grocery store.

My Taco Bell son was appalled — though near the end of the summer, he seemed more appreciative, especially of the fruit salads. When we weren’t eating salads and Brie, Lauren and I were sneaking off to restaurants. We spent way too much money. But I couldn’t resist her company and, often, the company of her friends and their mothers.

Of course, there were difficult times, too. Many nights I lay awake wondering when she would get home. She had a serving job out of town and often liked to go out with her coworkers afterwards. I worried about her driving the country roads late at night. I instructed her to call first and tell me which route she was taking, so that I could time precisely when she should get home. But she didn’t always “remember to call.” On those nights, I reached over to my nightstand and grabbed my rosary.

Then there was the makeup and brush issue. She commandeered all my stuff and I always had to go looking for it. Plus my bathroom counter was always a mess with her curling iron and blow dryer, which she invariably left out. But this morning, she is gone, and everything is in its place. So sad.

We had nice talks, though, while she dressed for work. I would often iron her uniform while she put on her makeup and put her hair up. A few times she even showed me text messages from a couple of boys to ask me how she should respond to them. I tried to act wise, but, truthfully, I usually had no clue.

I should be glad she’s gone. It was difficult to work while she was around. She was such a pleasant distraction. I certainly neglected my son, Kitch. But I don’t think he minded too much. Seventeen-year-old boys have places to go and things to do. They rarely include Mom. He did seem appreciative, though, when I mentioned that I was going to try to keep more food in the fridge and cook a little more now that Lauren is back in school. I also plan to catch up on eating at our favorite Mexican restaurant (not Taco Bell) with him. Lauren never wanted to go, as it wasn’t gourmet enough for her palate.

Kitch is going to be a freshman at our local state college this year. He’s going to live at home and commute. I am so glad he’s not flying the coop just yet. I don’t think I could bear it.

You know, she took every single gel pen. You would think she could have left me just one. Such a greedy girl.