This Nest is Empty

I just realized that hubby and I are, and have been for some time, empty-nesters.  Apparently I’m not the brightest light on this street because this is a new thought for me. Then again, I still think of myself as in my mid-thirties when truth is I haven’t seen any of my thirties in the last couple decades.

As relates to nests, empty and otherwise, our youngest daughter lives near by and comes home for a visit every week or so. Until recently she’d often spend the night.  Her furniture and lots of her clothes are still here.  She has a shelf in the pantry with her gluten-free foods and her bathroom has her shampoo and towels and brushes. Oh, she has a great job and she has her own place. But it doesn’t feel like she’s gone gone.  She’s just often away, she’s not gone.

Then Valentines Day came around and the love of her life asked her to become his missus.  He put a very sparkly ring on her finger and suddenly I’m an empty-nester.

And I’m not in my mid-thirties.  But it’s all good. Birds survive it. So can I.

Missing My Big Black Dog

Joe, my big black dog, has been gone for 4 months now.  But I still expect to see him when I pull into the driveway after a day’s work.  I still start to invite him for our evening walk.  I catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye when I go into the kitchen in the morning and I wait for his bark when someone walks down our road.  And I always throw a rock into the creek for him when I pass by.

Those things were part of our routine.  But since Joe has been gone, I’ve  started something new.  I’ve taken to running after the deer that enter our yard and yelling at them, “Get out of my yard!  Joe doesn’t want you in his yard!”  Those deer never entered our yard when Joe was here and I’m not about to let them saunter through now that Joe is gone.  Today my lawn, tomorrow my garden.  No!  So I chase after them, like a crazed woman, invoking the name of my dog who is now laid to rest in the yard.

I’m not so sure this will work.  But it makes me feel better about missing Joe.

Book Ends

I have a collection of old stuff.  In keeping with my motto, “use it or get rid of it”, I’ve put an old meat grinder to work as a book end. On another shelf I’ve also put an old flat iron to work as a book end.  Works great.  Treasures holding my treasured books steady and secure.

Which sets me to thinking about life. Every day I call my 88 year old mother who lives across the state and we chat for a few about our day, the weather, the friends we heard from, the new recipe we tried, and what’s new with my kids and grandkids.  And every day I call my daughter who lives in another state and we chat for a few about my 8 month old grandson and what he’s up to, the new menu he tried, and the mileposts he’s reaching.

The bookends of life.  My 88 year old mother and my 8 month old grandson.  They define our family’s edges.  One just starting out and I cheer and smile and ooh and ahhh at his accomplishments.  The other nearing the end and I cheer and smile and applaud her accomplishments.  They are both very brave and working hard.  And I’m in the middle, for now, hedged in by the family book ends.