I’m told what I’m going through is called ‘Empty Nesting’. But I’m not a bird. I do not nest, I have no feathers of my own (only expensively acquired ones on some of my garments), have no wings (that I admit to) and I’ve not got a long beak (nose is a different matter).
So I guess I just miss them. It’s an emotion hard to explain. I’m not a control freak. If you saw my house you’d know how true that is. When everyone’s home, I let the kids do what they like, even if it means that I curse under my breath when I’m faced with a messy kitchen first thing in the morning. So it’s not as if I want to have them under my wing all the time. No, I just really like their company, and the company of their friends.Yet it’s not even that simple. If they were just friends, I wouldn’t suddenly have a lump in my throat driving alone in the car, or feel desolate when finding the house empty and eerily quiet at the end of a day. Or feel close to tears at the supermarket when realising how much less food just two people eat. Wondering if it’s even worth cooking anything?