She thought she’d conquered empty-nest syndrome. Then this guy left for college
Autumn brings a chill in the air, shorter daylight hours and bright foliage. It also leaves families across the land settling into the new school year. And ours was no different. For the last 21 autumns, after a laid-back summer our kitchen wall calendar has been an explosion of back-to-school activity beginning in September.
Our family organizational system dictates that the kitchen calendar is for any activity that involves more than one family member. For the many years since our oldest child started pre-kindergarten, the 30 squares of September kicked off the school year with family events, including the first day of school, first choir and band practices, fall sports, teacher conferences and Sunday school. What I’m saying is that for the last 21 years, the Vollenweider September kitchen calendar has been packed.
This year it’s very different.
When I flipped the kitchen calendar to September, only one square, Sept. 16, had anything, and that was:“You have fall tea towels.”
That’s it? An autumnal themed tea towel reminder? Sure, I always forget about the seasonal towels until the season is over, so yay on you, January Susan, but that’s it? October was also light and only displayed a birthday with no firm plans.
Our fall: Tea towels and a vague birthday celebration of some sort, TBD.
Back in August, one square said, “Bring Noah to College.” He’s our youngest kid; the other two are now in post-college careers and homes of their own. Now, my husband and I are, during the college school year, empty-nesters.
I knew this day was coming. It was part of the “independence is the goal” motto I’ve had as a parent. But, like any monumental life change, you can prepare, you can brace yourself, you can imagine, you can talk to others who have trod the path before you, but it’s all theory until it happens. It’s all unknown emotions until you live it.
I thought I was ahead of the game. While I was making empty-nester plans, my husband was gleefully watching sports and relishing a summer with Noah, until one day he realized that Noah was leaving and the only sports that I watch are the season finales.
“Who’s going to watch the Yankees with me?” he asked out of the blue one day. I didn’t know if I should hug him or laugh. Did he not realize this day was coming? Did he not prepare for it?
I was smug. Too smug. I thought I was going to be hitting this empty-nester game full throttle. I had a friends’ weekend planned in Chicago just days after we moved Noah into his dorm. I had more trips planned for the fall.
I even opened a few long-ignored projects to see if there was anything worth my attention since I was going to have oodles of time to devote to creative endeavors. I told myself that we had successfully sent two other kids off to college, I knew the routine, I was experienced and I totally had this.
I totally did not have this. After hours of assembling furniture and unboxing things we had spent weeks boxing for Noah’s dorm room, I left campus in an empty car without him. How does one 18-year-old who’s listening to his own music and phone-chatting with his friends make enough noise that the ride is silent when he’s not in the car? How does he fill up a house even when he’s spending long days with his friends or in his room with the door closed?
No amount of positive self-talk or trying to replace my sadness with excitement for what Noah was going to be doing in college would take away the deep and empty feeling that filled me in that car.
I’m new to this. I have no answers, no advice. I can report that my husband and I, despite knowing that this day was coming for the last 21 years, just stare at each other and wonder, “Now what?”
Maybe I should embroider that on a tea towel.
Susan is a Kansas City based writer and podcaster. She co-hosts the award-winning, women’s history podcast, “The History Chicks,” and occasionally hosts her own, “A Slice From the Middle.” Reach her at svollenweider@gmail.com.