How odd, to be alone in this quiet house.
This house, our home, has been a nest, a place where we nurtured two daughters. My wife and I tried to make it safe, comfortable, and an enjoyable place to be. A refuge and a resource.
And now, the youngest has left the nest. I’m so pleased and proud to see my daughters, strong, confident, accomplished young women, off and flying free.
But the pain of missing them, of not seeing them daily, is surprisingly intense. The cats know that something is different. The old dog is gone and now, where is the girl?
But the nest remains. They’ll return, on occasion, perhaps even frequently. My wife and I had our lives together for many years before we had children and we will create new lives now. We have plenty of work to do and no lack of things to keep our lives full and active. And our roles as parents aren’t over. It’s never over. But it’s a new role, a changed one. We have a lot to learn about being parents of adults, and someday, we hope, grandparents.
But I can’t think of that now. It’s quiet here. The house is empty. So I’ll blow my nose, wipe my eyes, and get back to work.
It’ll just take some getting used to.