There she goes again

The morning before drop-off. Soaking up as much time together as possible.

There she goes. There she goes again.

The La's sang it in 1988, and I heard it again in my head when I saw my older daughter walking away with Finnley the morning we drove her to her sophomore year of college. My husband and I became obsessed with "So I Married an Axe Murderer" years ago, and that song occupied some real estate in my head for a while. Seeing her walk away brought it back.

Yesterday, we dropped her off at school. Last year I missed that entirely. I said goodbye in the driveway and then flew to Michigan. While Rod helped her move into her dorm, shopping for toiletries and organizers and new sheets, I was in Michigan helping my mom move into assisted living. I was standing in a big box store trying to figure out what to buy my mom when I saw a woman my age and her teenage daughter looking at the very same things. I asked if they were shopping for college, and the young woman excitedly told me she was heading to the University of Michigan. I told them my daughter was probably doing the same thing right now, nearly all the way across the country. We had the same shopping agenda in a different store. New place, new people, new life. Scary and exciting. Two entirely different stages of life, and somehow exactly the same.

I know I am not alone in this.

There is a term for where I find myself, and where you may find yourself too: the sandwich generation. Caught between helping a child launch into the world and a parent needing more support in theirs. If you are in this stage, you already know it is one of the most exhausting and, at times, beautiful places to be. There is a symmetry to it. You are bonded in every direction at once.

And then someone leaves.

What I learned this past year, with my daughter six hours away and my mom now twelve, is that bonds do not require constant proximity. They require attention. A text that says I was just thinking about you. A phone call on a Tuesday for no reason. A good ol’ fashioned letter. Visits when they are possible.

Finnley did not get that memo. He keeps the bond strong in his own way, visiting her room, listening for her car. His sad whines and pacing by the back door when she was loading her bags two days ago nearly broke my heart. He did not know where she was going, but he knew her absence immediately.

It was the same last school year, and the bond between them did not weaken over that time apart. When she came home, it was like no time had passed. Bonds built on real connection have a kind of memory. They pick up where they left off. The trust remains.

That is true of the people you lead, too.

Leaders sometimes assume that visibility equals connection. But what we know about attachment and trust tells us something different. What builds a lasting bond is not constant presence in any setting. It is consistent attunement, whether your team is down the hall or across the country. Knowing what matters to someone. Noticing when something is off. Reaching out before there is a problem to solve.

Margaret Moore and Jonathan Hull write in The Science of Leadership (2025) that relational leadership is built on empathy, respect, listening, and support (p. 88). The leaders who earn deep loyalty are not necessarily the ones who are always there. They are the ones whose people know, without question, that they are seen.

Here are three specific things you can do to build bonds that hold:

1. Name what you notice. When someone on your team does something well, say so specifically and immediately. Do not wait for a performance review. The next time a team member handles a difficult conversation with grace, navigates a tight deadline without drama, or steps up for a colleague, tell them what you saw and why it mattered. Bonds form around being truly seen, and being seen requires someone paying close enough attention to notice the details.

2. Reach out with no agenda. Send a short message that asks how someone is doing, with no action item attached. Schedule it. Put one name on your calendar each week and send the note on that day. "Hi, just wanted to let you know I am thinking of you." That simple act signals something busy leaders often skip: I am thinking about you as a person, not a resource. It's always amazing how perfect the timing is.

3. Tend the bond before the stress arrives. Call a team member to check in before a big project begins, not after it goes sideways. Stop by someone's desk with no purpose other than to ask how their week is going. Offer to rehearse their presentation with them. Invest in the relationship before you need it. Make the deposit before you need to make the withdrawal. The deposits you make in ordinary moments are what fund the withdrawals in hard ones.

Finnley is sad today. He knows she is not here.

But she’ll be home for Thanksgiving, and he will find her like no time has passed, because she built something with him that distance cannot weaken.

That is what you are building too, in every text you send, every Tuesday call, every moment you stop long enough to say: I see you, and I am glad you are in my life.

There she goes.

Build the life you're working for.

— Sarah

P.S. If you are in the sandwich generation, you are probably in midlife, and you will likely enjoy this week's Future Walk Podcast episode. I talk with Marsha McDaniel, founder and CEO of Swansera, a science-backed skincare brand for women navigating perimenopause and menopause, about becoming an entrepreneur at 50 and using decades of experience as a U.S. diplomat to inform her newest chapter: Midlife is Not Mid.