All year, since our youngest went off to college, people have been asking my husband and me how we like having an “empty nest.”
My husband usually responds, “What empty nest? It’s more full of junk than ever!”
I say nothing.
People said, “It’ll be great! You’ll be able to walk around the house naked!”
But my children didn’t get that memo; and somehow, all I have to do is leave my bedroom door open, one evening, while I’m changing into pajamas, and all of a sudden (cue the scary voice)… “They’re ba-ack!”
“Sweetie — you’re here!” I exclaim, slamming my door. “I wasn’t expecting you!”
“Yes, well, it turns out I was wrong about when exams ended, so I got a ride with a friend. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Um, of course not! Just let me get dressed.”
This boy is just home for a quick visit. But in less than a month, many of the kids who were dropped off at college, four short years ago, will be coming back — maybe for good.
All too soon, I might have my beloved firstborn rattling around the house, seeing all the flaws he never noticed before, in his haste to get away.
“Say, Mom, what are all these boxes doing in my room?”
“I took them down from the attic, to try and declutter a little.”
“And the stacks of books everywhere?”
“Same thing, dear — I’m going through them all to see what I can give away.”
“But why are they still in my room?”
“Well, I’m not finished, yet.”
“Why can’t they go in my brother’s room?”
“That’s where I’m sorting the photo albums.”
“Or downstairs?”
“Is it possible you didn’t notice all the stacks of papers on the dining room table?” asks my husband.
Suddenly I hear a thump and a swear word. “And what is the vacuum cleaner doing here, Mom? It just tripped me!”
“Well, I can’t very well leave it on the attic stairs with all these boxes that have to go up and down! Besides, I thought I might vacuum your room when I’d finished.”
Thank goodness my boys don’t notice little things like dust kitties lurking in every corner — or the holiday tablecloth still on the dining room table, under the papers.
“Never mind, I’ll just go find something to eat.”
Well, good luck with that, I think but don’t tell him.
“Mom! There’s nothing to eat!”
Indeed. It took me two years to stop buying groceries enough to feed an army, but I finally learned. Now one pot of stew provides dinner for two of us for almost a week. Now, finally, the milk stays in the refrigerator long enough to spoil. As for the bread — no, it doesn’t spoil. But maybe it should!
“Mom, how old is this bread?”
Looking at that last slice in the cellophane bag, I couldn’t even remember when I had purchased it. How many preservatives would it take, to keep it from spoiling?
“You know what, sweetie? Don’t eat that. I think there’s some microwave popcorn, in one of the cabinets.”
“Mom, it’s rancid! I’ll just go out for pizza. Where are the car keys?”
I’ll admit, it’s been refreshing, using my own car whenever I wanted, and without having to draw up a three-dimensional schedule, first, of who needs which car when, for how urgent a mission. I guess those schedules are back, now, along with the boy.
“If I didn’t know better, Mom, I’d think you didn’t want me back home.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, dear; I love having you here. Could you help me put this pitcher back on the top shelf over the refrigerator?”
I only just started booking activities for myself, to fill up my suddenly cavernous days. I hate everything about going to a gym — the expense, the clothing, and, oh yes, the sweat — but I got myself a membership and actually went, that’s how bored I was. I signed up for a writing seminar, too — even for my high school reunion. If it gets any worse I might have to start scrubbing the mildew off the tiles in the upstairs shower!
The truth is, as much as I complain about the bedlam and the chaos and the cluelessness of my kids when they’re home… when they’re gone, I miss them.
I wonder how many years it’ll take me to get used to that.
