I’m luxuriating in a silent, clean, mostly empty house right now and am thrilled to report that barring any unforeseen circumstances, this is pretty much what my domestic life will look like for the next four months. Blessed be the fruit!
In this case, the delicious fruit is college. That’s right, friends, three of our four heirs have left the building, hopefully not returning until the holidays. Don’t get me wrong, I love them. But teenagers and 20-year-olds are messy, loud, expensive, meat-eating machines who are only nice to their moms when they want food or money. They bake cookies at midnight, totally unconcerned with the noise they are making while a certain mother attempts to sleep above them. They invite their posses over for all-you-can-eat buffets featuring the Wilson pantry and refrigerator/freezer. And they hoard clothes and tchotchkes like nobody’s business.
Our youngest is still around, but she is so busy with school and dance and socializing that we rarely see her. Praise be, my husband Doo and I are basically empty nesters. I come home after work to a sink that holds no dishes. I go to bed enjoying an Xbox-free silence. I shop at Meijer maybe once a week. Talk about your miracles! I can even binge-watch “The Handmaid’s Tale” in the actual living room, on the TV.
People told me I’d feel sad and lonely without the general bustle of kids underfoot, that I’d miss the energy that comes from a big family coexisting under one roof. They were liars. I love it, almost as much as I love my children. In college. Under someone else’s eye.