The Empty Nest?

The Empty Nest ?

There are 10 living breathing beings in our home this morning. The head count varies from day to day.  Our daughter, son-in law, our two granddaughters (visiting from Charlotte) our son, his overnight guest, my mother, our dog and Skip are all asleep.   I am enjoying the quiet moments of the early morning as I often do.  It is the calm before the storm.  How many mornings have I sat alone, writing, sipping coffee and enjoying the peaceful silence?  I relish this time and acknowledge it as a very special part of my day.  For some, this silence lasts throughout the day and night...but not for me.  I have always enjoyed a houseful of people yet longed for that time when my thoughts were not interrupted by others.  Then I am reminded of something.

The concept of the empty nest is not part of my life; the words are not in my vernacular.  I recall thinking that my husband Skip and I were 'Empty Nesters' for about one week back in the 1990s. 

How did it feel? 

Lonely, quiet, boring!

Since then, we have had a revolving door of house guests, visitors, (ALWAYS) pets, and adult children who come and go, visit, bring their friends, and spend the night. There is never a dull moment.  I do not know what it would feel like to be alone, yet I covet those quiet moments...those idle days that others take for granted.  I am conflicted.

Our nest is never empty!  Sometimes it almost bursts with life, the doors and walls straining to contain humanity, the rooms echoing the voices, the laughter. 

I look at the clock and muse over this temporary calm...the stillness...the eye of the hurricane.  Soon I will hear my mother stir and call to me.  Her progressing dementia will cause her to wander around her room until she remembers to call out to us to help her dress, assist her out of her room and down the stairs.

Our daughter will emerge next followed by our two granddaughters -- two chirping hungry birds wanting breakfast.  Our son-in-law will take longer while our son and his guest try to sleep through the bedlam.

At some point we may all converge.  It will be hours from now and may not happen at all.  There are schedules, activities, meetings that send all of us in different directions.  We are a stopping place on the way to a destination, a family hotel, a welcome center.  Do we mind?  Absolutely not!  We are thrilled to house them, to provide shelter, to dispense loving hospitality.  To relish the fullness of our home, to embrace the happy mess, to anticipate the noise and pandemonium without resentment is the life we cherish.  It is bloated with love and brimming with life. 

Some day our home will feel empty, but not today.