The author (right) took her daughter on a European vacation before she heads off to college this fall.

Courtesy of Kate Loweth.

My daughter is heading off to college in Southern California in late September, and I'm doing what I suspect many parents do when a child reaches this milestone: trying to be genuinely excited while quietly wondering how I'm supposed to get used to an emptier house.So last month, I took her on a "collegemoon" to celebrate everything she had accomplished — and, perhaps selfishly, to soak up some time together before she leaves home.What I didn't expect was how that trip would make me even more anxious about her next steps.We took a trip to celebrate all of her hard workMy daughter had earned this celebratory trip. She graduated with a GPA over 4.0, but that number doesn't really tell the whole story. During her junior and senior years of high school, she took all of her classes at our local community college, ultimately earning two associate degrees alongside her high school diploma. Watching her juggle college-level coursework, babysitting 20 hours a week, and being a teenager was one of those parenting experiences that was both exhausting and exhilarating. I was incredibly proud of her, and I wanted to mark the occasion with something bigger than a dinner out or a graduation party. So we went to Europe.We got to be just mom and daughterFor a week, we traveled the Croatian coast, stopping in beautiful seaside towns and ancient cities before spending a few days in Venice. While I braced myself for the possibility that she might not be thrilled about spending that much uninterrupted time with her mother, she was an absolute delight.She willingly joined me for early-morning walking tours through ancient cities, even when I'm sure sleeping in would have been the more appealing option. We wandered narrow streets, ate far too much gelato, and had the kind of long conversations that don't seem to happen at home with siblings and schedules bearing down.On this trip, we simply got to be together.