Fly Away

The future arrives tomorrow, and I'm not ready. Not even close.

Neither is my wife. How could we be?

We have been partners for twenty years on this grand journey of parenting. Our mission has had a singular focus to raise smart, loving, and empathetic children.  On most days we succeeded but on some days we fell short. Yet tomorrow it will all be over. Our tenure has ended.  Phase I and now Phase II of this epic project will be complete. I do hope there is a Phase III?

The two of us have been very good at this endeavor called parenting. Bringing children into this crazy, ever-changing world and then setting them loose eighteen years later has always been a bizarre human proposition. Raising two kids has consumed us in different ways but has always been at the forefront of our daily rituals. There will be tears in Eugene, but they will be tears of joy and gratefulness. I say that because we were present for this voyage and showed up every day, especially Mom. She was wide awake, twenty-four-seven, and there for the kids 100% of the time. We paid even closer attention during this final lap in 2020. And Covid-19 was kind enough to afford us “extra” time with both monkeys at home this spring. 

Our son's departure two years ago seems like a dress rehearsal now. Yes, it happened but was it really happening? The finality of his leaving caught us off-guard. I always expected an extension would be granted to complete our thesis. But the last paper was, in fact, due, and it would be our last effort. The professor's job was done. The pupil was ready to explore alone. The final lesson was actually for Mom and Dad. It was time to let go.

And now, just twenty-four months later, it’s time to let our daughter go. She will fly south to join her best friend and brother. Thankfully, that is the same person. My Turtlebug doesn't leave for 24 hours, so we have all the time in the world. The truth is, she has already left. She has been busy all summer, babysitting, shopping for college stuff, and sharing final memories with high school friends. There are no backpacks on the floor, no tornado of homework spread across the dining room and no shoes strewn all over the house. Mostly is has been two, not so young, parents staring at each other across the dinner table, wondering where our housemates went.

And that's what the empty nest is all about, two old friends enjoying a meal, trying to recall a shared history from long ago.  The clock ticks and silence reigns. Our soon to be vacant nest has nothing to do with the children. Zero. What's done is done. We did our best and gave them absolutely all the love we had. They are exceptional young adults and both will flourish as they begin their own journeys.

But what of Mom and Dad in the fall of 2020? I worry about our immediate future. We celebrated our wedding anniversary last month. Twenty-five years is a fantastic accomplishment. But 85% of our marriage has been focused entirely on the kids. I wonder if we watered our own garden enough? Do we have enough momentum to move forward? The truth is, I don't know. For most married couples, to say anything different is wishful thinking. Nobody knows.

Thankfully, my wife and I enjoyed four, crazy, fun-filled, and adventurous years before I finally snuck a few past the goalie. We took leaps, made a few mistakes, and traveled all over. Most importantly, our pre-kid time was used to cement our respect and love for each other. And while those wild and carefree days live in a distant time, it is nice to know they are still alive.

How will Mom pass the hours when she is not an on-demand cook, confidant, nurse, chauffeur, and advisor? Now it's just a fifty-three-year-old hunk of a husband she must care for.

Will we have relations every night? Can I walk around the house naked? Will we travel all over? What on earth will we do with nobody to look after? I'm already needy, having competed unsuccessfully for years for my wife's attention. How will she handle me without any human buffers available? She is laughing right now or more likely crying!

While the unknowns lurk nearby, I’m incredibly excited. I'm thrilled to start dating my wife once again. And we share the same room…so closing the deal will be much easier than in 1992! I'm eager to rediscover the flame that set us ablaze 28 years ago.  I'm ready to start cooking again** mostly because my opinion for dinner may finally be considered. We never enjoyed regular date nights. Happily, the fall calendar looks wide open.  I'm fortunate that she is more beautiful than when I first saw her from afar at Tex-Mex. She is a tad bit lucky too. Lucky that her hubby still has a full head of hair and a smaller belly than the average fifty-three-year-old.

I wish the four of us would have taken one more road-trip. Perhaps one final slider at the roadside burger joint? I’d love to endure another ridiculous family discussion of when, where and what to eat. Laughter always followed. And that's precisely how it should be.

K, please fly away slowly and gently, and please come home whenever you like. Bring your brother too. 

And honey, please pass the salt.

** Ok, so I never cooked that much. I did made a decent lemon chicken pasta back in the day. That and toast. I’m good with toast.