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TwitThisThe Empty Nest
Now, Brook's move has turned into a family weekend. I drive into New York on Saturday to help her pack. When we get bored with wrapping dishes in newspaper, we hop on the subway to Bed, Bath & Beyond, where she actually asks which shower curtain I like. Later, we play a few hands of gin rummy on her new couch before turning in. To my delight, I've been invited to share the first night in her new place.On Sunday, my husband, Steve, arrives to hang mirrors and set up the stereo. The three of us trek to several Radio Shacks in the neighborhood, stopping along the way for burgers and fries, before we find the right rabbit ears for her TV. She asks our opinions, and when I'm bold enough to ask her for a set of her apartment keys, she happily makes us copies.
By midafternoon, all the boxes are unpacked. Brook and I are writing a grocery list while Steve catches the last ten laps of a NASCAR race. As he flicks off the TV and gets up to go, he kids her: "You aren't going to cry this time?" That idea is so far from reality that all we can do is laugh.
I think back to all the places we left her in tears. There was ballet camp (from which we rescued her after five miserable days); tennis camp (where we made her stick it out); a high-school exchange program in Provence; and even her rocky first semester at college, when she left her first true love back at home and I honestly didn't know whether she would make it. In the bright promise of this sunlit room, those images are as old and grainy as her I-can't-afford-cable-TV screen. This time, there's no knot in my stomach. I also know there won't be a tearful call at 11:30 p.m., unless I'm the one who's making it.
That's the real question for Steve and me. If our daughter is now a full-fledged adult, does that mean we're one step closer to geezerhood? As her parents, do we have to move along to a new place in her life that's much smaller and much more remote?
For our generation, the answer is no. We're not exactly handing over the reins. How could we, since we never had a tight grip on them anyway? So the empty nest isn't such a bad place to be. In this e-mail era, we hear from our kids pretty often, and we can chat with them anytime without interrupting their day.
But I also believe that the way we've shared lives since they were very small -- toting them off to restaurants, on vacations our parents would never have considered -- means that they may be generous with their time now that the shoe's on the other foot. And they are the ones with the increasingly busy lives.
On Sunday night, as I drive home, I feel nostalgic for the heady days when all those milestones lay ahead -- first step, first word, first date. I've got five big scrapbooks for the next time I need to walk down memory lane -- and I know I'll get to play a supporting role in the adventures that are still to come.
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