As I sat on my back steps lingering in the laziness of a beautiful summer morning, my eyes caught site of something a few feet away. It was this little plant poking up in the oddest place…the fire pit. I removed the lid to investigate and found that it had sprouted from the charred remains within.
Some would see this as simply a “weed” and no big deal. To me it felt more significant. It may sound odd, but I felt admiration for its grit, determination, and perseverance. The simple fact that it was able to find a way – despite the desolate conditions surrounding it – to emerge and rise upward was inspiring to me.
I could sense a personal message in this discovery, and it was one that came in perfect timing…growth and rebirth happen all the time, even in those moments and places that may seem impossible.
Why was this a message I needed this morning? It is because I am coming face-to-face with the fact that I will need to “re-birth” and “re-grow” myself into uncharted territory, within the unfamiliar surroundings of an “empty nest” household.
In two days, I will move my youngest daughter into college. My oldest will follow in less than two weeks. Though I know they will only be a short car-ride away, and come home some weekends and vacations, this impending change is causing uneasiness to creep in. The challenge, I know, is accepting this change…accepting the uncomfortable emotions that will arise…and trusting that I will adjust.
I have been trying to remind myself of the positive benefits of this change, and I’m sure some will be able to relate. Those who know me, know I’m not a huge fan of cooking. Don’t get me wrong…I can pull it off and put a healthy and delicious meal on the table. It’s just not my favorite way to spend time. I honestly won’t miss those meal-related texts such as: “What’s for dinner?” “When’s it gonna be ready?” or my personal favorite… “Are you going shopping soon?” Oh, the freedom I will feel indulging in cereal for dinner and not feeling guilty over it!
Another positive that comes to mind can be summed up in one word: laundry. Though my girls have been responsible for doing their own laundry for years, what was once a downstairs hallway, morphed into a holding room for endless mounds of dirty laundry (which I sometimes tackled when I couldn’t look at it anymore). The dining room table disappeared underneath piles of clean clothes (on a good week they were folded).
Then there’s the disappearing glasses…those times when I would reach in the cabinet for a clean glass and find none. This would inevitably lead to a group text (way more successful than me yelling up the stairs – competing with the ever-present earbuds): “Girls bring down the d*#@ glasses, bowls, plates etc. you’re hoarding up there!!!”
Those things that involve cleaning, cooking, errands etc. won’t be missed. In their absence, I will certainly have more time and freedom on my hands. Hallelujah, right??? A part of me is yelling “Amen!” It’s that part of me that honestly looks forward to less chores and less responsibilities. However, there’s the other part of me yelling “Hell no!” This other part is the space within my heart, that knows the real trade-off for this freedom – the absence of my two amazing girls.
I will miss their presence in so many ways. I will miss the “normalcy” of the routine we have established. I will miss our conversations over dinner…complaints about school…Chloe’s crazy Dunkin Donuts stories…Mikaela discussing her excitement over the latest Marvel movie. I will miss the sound of the beautiful music Chloe created on the piano and watching Mikaela engulfed in her latest masterpiece. I will miss sharing laughs over Milton’s antics and taking him on walks together. I’ll miss “car karaoke” when Mikaela and I would belt out tunes playing on the radio (Queen was a favorite). I’ll miss their friends visiting, their laughter and silliness seeping out the bedroom doors. I’ll miss their friend’s parents as well.
It’s a strange feeling, knowing these big changes are coming. It’s causing me to feel out of place, in a way, which brings me back to that plant in the fire pit. The “charred remains” I’m facing, are simply the remnants of one chapter of my life – parenting while having my children and I all under one roof. I’m now facing “parenting at a distance” as my new norm.
My challenge will be to find the grit and determination to “re-birth” “re-grow” and “re-create” myself in this unfamiliar territory. Prior experience tells me that I will roll with the punches and re-adjust. I’ve already begun to think about the things I may do with more free time on my hands. I’m pondering taking classes with Milton to have him trained as a therapy dog. I’ve thought about traveling more and visiting friends that I’ve been promising to visit (that’s you, Pennie!). With more time, I’m considering perusing the online dating world and working on my profile: “Single, empty nester with dog…” 😉 Though I’ll admit, I’m a bit leery after my last attempts into that world.
I feel the overall message of my “plant in the fire pit” is simply to see this impending change as a transition, a natural end of one cycle and the beginning of a new one. If I view it in this light, it is somewhat easier to accept. I received more messages related to this them, when I had to pause my writing to drive to an appointment. One came through numbers and the other through a song. I saw the number 999 on several different license plates and then noticed the number 9999 showing up as the last 4 digits on my odometer. In terms of numerology, this signifies the end of a cycle. How fitting. I also heard a song that I hadn’t heard in years. Admittedly, it brought a tear to my eye: “It’s So Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday” by Boyz II Men. Some of these lyrics really hit home for me and may for you as well, if you are in a similar life phase…“I don’t know where this road is going to lead. All I know is where we’ve been and what we’ve been through…And I’ll take with me the memories, to be the sunshine after the rain. It’s so hard to say goodbye to yesterday.” ☹
Ironically, as I was trying to finish this piece, I was interrupted by a text from my daughter, who was on her way home: “Mom, can you make me a grilled cheese?” (she added the praying hands emoji for added effect). I guess this was a reminder that I’ll also have more free time to devote to my writing.
This “empty nest” stage will probably be temporary. It’s likely that they’ll return to the nest at some point after college graduation, before they’re ready to finally fly free. I’m sure that one of them will return for a visit soon, before the dust fully settles here. I can picture it now…door opens, laundry bag drops to the floor, as I’m greeted with a hug and a familiar question: “What’s for dinner?”