“Language... has created the word 'loneliness' to
express the pain of being alone. And it has created the word 'solitude' to
express the glory of being alone.” Paul Tillich
Four days.
Well, four-and-just-a-little-bit-more
days to be slightly less than 100% precise.
It really hasn’t
sunk in yet; perhaps it will take a little more time to feel the very real
sense that something is missing. They say you can’t miss something (or someone)
if they remain in your day-to-day and are in front of you more often than not.
She’s been away on trips with her father for longer than this; this week,
although feeling melancholy from a more intellectual than emotional
perspective, has been rather ‘smooth sailing’.
I’ve been
keeping myself occupied with work and domestic goddess duties.
I’ve been
spending time riding out on the open road.
I’ve been
enjoying not having to build my schedule around anyone else but me.
Yes, I know it’s
not going to last forever, but I’m determined not to find myself ugly-face
crying in the bathroom mirror at two in the morning and bemoaning the fact that
I am ‘all alone’.
It’s not true,
you know. That whole ‘empty nest’ pervasive sadness that is often rumoured to
linger in the air for days and weeks after the youngest child leaves the nest?
I was dreading that particular special brand of parental despair I’d heard so
much about over the past several months.
Maybe I’m not
doing this whole Empty Nester thing right…
Is it wrong to
feel a sense of absolute giddiness and pleasure at the fact that I bought a box
of Fruit Loops and am relishing the sheer joy at the thought that I have it all
to myself? Fruit Loops! It’s like I can’t wait to go to bed at night because hitting
the sheets means I am that much closer to breakfast.
Am I acting just
a tad selfish at recognizing that I don’t have to share my car with anyone else
and that I can come and go as I please…and that I love it?
I suppose I
could be considered just a little odd for liking the fact that I can now walk
from the bathroom after my morning shower wrapped in nothing but a goofy smile
and not worrying about anyone coming up the stairs and catching me do it.
Sometimes, it’s
the little things that can bring on the biggest smiles, but make no mistake, my
friends; there’s a lot of little things that are starting to add up and make it
painfully obvious to this mother’s heart of mine that a new phase of life has
begun…
There’s not 8
pairs of shoes (only two of which would be mine) at the back door anymore.
The house at
night is exactly as it was when I left for work in the morning.
My first grocery
order for one didn’t include someone else’s favourite cookies or a selection of
interesting and odd-looking fruit.
To be honest,
things don’t really feel any different at this end yet. I’m used to having a
lot of time to myself, mostly the result of a combination of factors including
her work schedule, my time out on the road, and a healthy respect for each
other’s privacy.
Things have
changed far more for the kidlet (at this point) than they have for me. Her list
of adventures and series of ‘firsts’ is far longer than mine. At this stage of
the game, my little moments of pleasure are coming from simple things like counting
down to the season premiere of Sons of Anarchy and the start of the hockey
season. I’m making ‘unplanned plans’ for Thanksgiving weekend and preparing for
my first ever Fall Colours Road Trip on my motorcycle.
Motivational
speaker and author, Barbara de Angelis, wrote that women need real moments of
solitude and self-reflection to balance out how much of ourselves we give away.
I suppose she’s right, but much of the joy in my life has been the result of
the pouring of my love and affection out into the world and into my two girls.
From heading into Hamilton to attend football games to exploring waterfalls to
baking up a storm in the kitchen, my girls and I developed into great friends
and partners-in-crime. I really don’t see that changing much except for the
‘whats’ and ‘whens’ and ‘hows’ of the situation, and that’s perfectly fine with
me. Adventure is created in how you approach life, and twenty-three years of
being a parent has taught me that you can pretty much find adventure in
anything as long as you retain your sense of humour.
I wish I had
something more profound to tell you.
I wish that the
changes this week seemed more earth-shattering, more life-altering, more
how-am-I-going-to-get-through-this kinds of feelings.
The truth of the
matter is that it either hasn’t sunk in yet or things really aren’t all that
different.
Maybe it’s
because she was really ready to take this leap into the next phase of her life.
Maybe it’s
because I was.
She seems to be
thriving up there in the wilds of Waterloo.
She seems to be
finding a healthy balance between insecurity and independence.
She seems to be
missing me and the cat just enough and not
too much.
It’s the same at
this end.
I guess that
means I did my job right.
I guess it also
means that she raised me just as much as I raised her.
We’re doing
fine, the kidlet n’ me.
We’re finding
our way.
We’re looking
forward to a ‘mother and child reunion’ in a couple of weeks.
Until then, I’m
going to enjoy and celebrate my clean house, my evenings to myself, and my
undisturbed, early-morning cup of coffee.
After that?
Bring on the chaos and the clutter and a weekend full of laughter and laundry
and love.
This empty nest
thing isn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be.
Now, if you’ll
excuse me, there’s a bowl of Fruit Loops calling my name…
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