December 30
It’s December 30, the day before New Year’s Eve. My chick has flown the coop. She left in a limo that would whisk her and her husband back to the airport, the first leg of their return to their to their sunny abode in Glendale, CA. Cass and I see them off in the wee hours (3:20 am), waving goodbye from our chill but Christmas-lit porch as the Lincoln whisks them back to their regular lives and schedules and Mercators of geography.
Our hosting duties completed, we return to bed to catch up on our sleep. Dawn breaks and I’m the first to wake up. Rising, I’m careful to let Cass continue his remaining Happy Hour in Dreamland.
I traipse to our open plan living area. The trees are unlit. A few China cups remain huddled on the “to be hand washed” area of my kitchen counter. A throw hangs over a sofa in a way I would not have folded it. Remnants of our grown-up daughter’s Christmas stay with us.
“Empty nest syndrome” washes over me, that tingly pang in the heart that is best described as a mix of loss and longing. I allow myself roughly three minutes of this because I know I have to feel what I feel.
Fortunately, I recognize dead end feelings when they hit me. And I know myself and what works for me to “shake my sillies out,” as a kindergarten teacher once advised my unruly self. I don’t do the fake rhumba of those long gone days. Instead, this, for me, is the antidote to ENS:
- Turn on the Christmas tree lights. Sure, I’m the only one who’ll see them this early in the morning – but they shine just as bright for one pair of eyes as for many.
- Channel one of my fave Christmas instrumental (background music) albums through our Oontz speaker – in this case it’s Amazon Prime’s aptly named “Christmas Background Music” album.
- Gratitude – I allow myself a few moments of wonder and thanks for all the things that went right during this holiday season – most especially, the loved ones who trekked here from many miles away (London, Ontario, as well as Glendale, California) to spend time with us and with each other in our abode.
- Start the coffee pot – everything’s better in the morning with that first cup of java.
- Get going with my chores – I wash up the China tea cups used only for our VIP visitors (all family members), and only on holidays; I strip the sheets in the guest bedroom and load the washer.
As the coffee pot churns to a stop, I pour myself a cup of java and sit down with a pencil and the bright yellow Unni notebook I use to create my to do lists).
As I create my “to do’s,” I realize that my touch of the blues have gone away.