Empty Nest?

Our house is empty again, and will be until August. It’s weird. I thought having an empty nest would be different. Every time everyone leaves, I’m sad they’re gone, but just as I get used to it, they come back. Maybe the term is wrong. I think we need to find another. When birds leave the nest, they don’t return. 

My flock does. But this time around, there are always set times. Almost like visitors rather than my children. I’m glad they’re getting their own lives, and happy they still need us as a place to roost, if only temporarily.

 

But it does make me feel a little bit like a hotelier. I set dates on the calendar for who arrives and leaves when. I hope to be around to give each a proper greeting or hug goodbye, although that doesn’t always work. And during the time they are here, I try to accommodate them with their food choices and some special activities.

 

I’m learning, however, that some of those things are best left to them. By the time I stock up on their “favorite foods,” their preferences have changed and I’m left with food no one will eat. So I’ve added a trip to the grocery store to their itinerary so they can choose what we have in the house.

 

And these days, I ensure that each time they’re home, they sort through something—clothes, a junk drawer, the bookshelf—so that unwanted items can find a new home. Well, that’s what I tell them (and my husband, the pack rat). Really, I just get satisfaction from clearing out stuff, and after a lifetime in this house, there is always something they can clear out. 

 

So for now, we are back to being the two of us, living our lives with an eye on our phones and the calendar, waiting for the next influx, and enjoying our time together. Even if it is a little weird.