MARRIAGE AND THE EMPTY NEST Larry McCall
So the day comes when the last of your kids really does fly from the nest. Maybe you’ ve just waved goodbye as your son drove off for grad school in another state, or perhaps you’ ve just returned from your daughter’ s wedding. It was a glorious day, and you’ re exhausted. Not just from the events of the recent weeks of preparing for the wedding and reception, but from the years of childrearing leading up to that beautiful day of witnessing your daughter and new sonin-law take the first steps into their own marriage. You’ ve returned to your own home. Maybe one of your first thoughts after you change into some comfy clothes is, Boy, it sure is quiet in here. Nice! as you slip into a much-needed nap.
But then, over the next few days, reality sets in. The relief you found in your finally-quiet home begins to yield to a certain sadness. Maybe it’ s too quiet. You begin to sense a
feeling of loss. You miss your kid’ s presence. You miss their activities and noise— well, at least some of it. In the coming weeks, you realize that you even begin to miss your child’ s friends and the friends’ parents. All those conversations and noise as you drove a vehicle full of kids to games and concerts and youth group gatherings are now in the past. The conversations with your fellow parents as you sat waiting for the recital to begin or during halftime at the game are now behind you. And meal prep. Is it really worth the effort to cook a meal for just two people? And who’ s going to do those chores that your kids used to help with? Yeah. Maybe it’ s too quiet.
Then you begin to wonder, Who am I anymore? For the last— how many years has it been? Twenty? Twenty-five? Thirty?— I’ ve been“ Mom.” I used to get so tired of hearing“ Mom!” for the umpteenth time each day.
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