It is back to school
week, and Facebook is covered with shots of first day outfits and scholars.
Posts are appearing from the mothers of kids who have launched, from
kindergarten to college/university. At both these ends of the range, the youngest
scholar leaves behind an empty space … either a half day with no children at
home or a home with no children in residence. An empty nest. But not forgotten.
You think and worry and hope – eggshells in the nest.
I have experienced
both these vacancies. I still remember launching the YD both into junior
kindergarten (she was determined to walk to the school BY HERSELF, Mommy) and
driving away from her first-year university residence after she had almost
literally shoved me into the car and sent me on my way. The similar launches of
older siblings are not quite the same as those moments. The empty house echoes,
what to do next becomes a decision rather than a response and you find yourself
shopping, cooking and doing the other household chores differently, to name a
few changes. And you wait. You wait for the door to slam, the phone to ring,
the mailman’s thump (yes, remember snail mail), the in-box to ding. Sometimes
the response is not good when it comes, but usually all the worrying you have
done was to no purpose and the launch successful. And then you watch them soar,
caught between pride and loneliness.
Both of the classic
launches are a long way behind me and since then there have been more departures
of adult children to jobs in different countries, on different continents, to a
different (married, perhaps) life. In all cases, for me, I have been left with
some echoes, lots of left -over packing material and, frequently, the contents
of a frig, house plants too big to move, or winter gear (not needed in Africa).
Once I was left with a house to sell. From time to time I have had a grandchild
or dog and cat to mother while their real mothers did something else. And,
always, they come back. Not to stay, except for a short time, but for long
enough to tell stories of their adventures.
I am an old lady – watching
the fledglings flap away happened long ago. But watching the next generation
fly is very much with me. And the grandchild is a constant source of wonder and
pride. Her wings are growing. Soon she will launch herself. I hope to be there
to see it, as my parents and in-laws were there to watch our daughters and
savour every moment, good and bad.
Yes, they may land
with a thump on their beak the odd time, be forced down into thorny branches,
be battered by storm and rain, take the wrong direction for a while. There is
no such thing as a perfect life or even perfect safety. Mostly they will manage.
Often they will overcome.
So, mother of a freshman newly installed in a
dorm with in-bed computer access, mother of a grade seven dressed in high style
for her first day in middle-school, mother of a Grade 3 who got a fine teacher,
mother of whomever, relax. You may have egg shells at present, but soon you
will hear the whoosh of wings and the stories will start. And you will be proud
of their grace and strength both when you welcome them and when they swoop off
again.
I have certainly squeezed
every nuance possible out of this metaphor. I can almost hear my mother telling
me so. Eggshells are fine things on their own.
