This second leaving has been the real leaving.

Walking back into our house, this week, the first time in months, she has more definition. She is that bit less my daughter, and that bit more her own person. She is that bit less mine.

My daughter is home for the weekend. I haven’t seen her since  mid-August when I dropped her off for her second year at university. She’s in a flat-share with two other girls – correction – she’s in the flatshare with two other girls. A modern, clean place, smack bang in the centre of town. Lean out the window and throw a stone and you’ll hit either a s…