On Monday night, I sat on my sofa and watched the season premiere of Downton Abbey, which led to much contemplation about whether Bates – such a temper! – actually is a murderer, or what the heck is wrong with far-too-noble Matthew Crawley (take the money, you fool!). It was two hours long, and I watched it from 5 until 7 pm. My husband was at a friend’s house watching the BCS championship game, so I was home alone. My dog Lambeau kept me company, like he always does, though I know that he’s really just waiting for Peter to walk in the door – the best moment of his day, by far – Lambeau’s day, that is (well, maybe Peter’s, too).
Adam was gone, back to school. He left the day before, his truck packed with box upon box of clothes, an XBox and not much more. We said a tearful goodbye and watched him drive away, heading back to the future he had put on hold for a little while. Raising children is heartbreaking, sometimes – but this was a good kind of heartbreaking, sending him off to where he belongs. Peter and I went for some retail therapy that day and dipped our toes into the water of no kids at home again.
So there I was, with no one walking in the door, no one asking “What are you watching?” which is code for “I want to watch something else,” no one wondering what we were going to do for dinner (I had two handfuls of almonds), no one at all. Just the Crawleys, Lambeau and me.
It was really nice. No, not nice. It was heavenly. It was quiet and clean, and for the first time since we bought it in October, the new ginormous flatscreen was not tuned to football, Duck Dynasty, or the Food Network.
There’s something so wonderful about waking up in the morning and knowing that the entire day is mine, all mine – the house is mine, my time is mine, my thoughts are mine…
Do I sound selfish? I’m not, really. What I am is focused on my world, my life, and my future. Just as Adam is ready to be focused on his. Peter is playing his guitar and I’m reading magazines. This is how it should be, now. This is what feels right, for all of us.
My nest is empty once again.