Monday, July 10, 2017

Introspection in a quiet house ... on a warm, summer night









The ­­­­­­­house is very quiet since we got on a plane and flew over 2,500 miles to New York with our daughter two weeks ago to drop her off for a summer college program.  Looking back, it was an integral part to feeling comfortable with leaving her there for six weeks—we were able to walk around town and get an idea of the vibe and the people, and we were able to tour many parts of the University and interact with several of the professors and professional resources available to the students.

Day three, after we’d walked to a local science center and to the downtown commons, I felt good about leaving her—really good, actually.  Thinking about it now doesn’t prevent a little bit of self doubt to creep in.  Not the self-doubt of leaving her there to have her first adult experience on her own, but the kind of self-doubt of letting her fly away from the nest at day ten instead of day fourteen, and not really feeling any kind of anxiety about it.  

I was sad when we told her goodbye, hugging … tears mingled with sweat from a hot day walking around campus.  I was sad when we went back to the hotel and she wasn’t there, the quiet settling in.  I was sad in the morning when I woke up to get ready to get on the plane to go back home.  Basically, I was sad the entire day, especially so when we arrived home to a quiet, empty house with her absence made more prominent by her cat, Sully, laying in her empty bed and wondering when she’ll be home again to snuggle with him.

Missing her life force floating around the house, the noise bouncing off the walls … reminds me of a time in my life back in elementary school when the melancholy and loneliness would set in like a thick fog after spending the weekend having a friend’s spirit share my space for a day or two.  I’m not sure why, but come Sunday evening the grief of their absence was crushing and I cried myself to sleep.  But, it got easier as I grew up and so is the case today.  

A friend recently asked how and what we were doing in my daughter’s absence.  Not a lot has really changed, to be honest.  We do the same things minus one person, although I do find myself wishing she was here to share the same memories.  “You’re empty-nesting,” my friend pointed out.  Bryan agrees with this assessment, but I’m not sure yet.  I vacillate and swing between the feeling of it just being the two of us and feeling like we’ve broken the plate and she’s graduated and away at college to the thought that she’s really only away on a trip and will be back in a month.  I guess it’s kind of an in-between feeling, if I’m really honest.  At the very least, it does give me a taste of what it will be like when the time comes for her to go off to college.

 So, I sit here and reflect under a full-moon … the quiet that has settled on our house as of late will soon be broken once again at another moon’s turn. 

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