The Thanksgiving Nest

At the end of a visit, my grandmother would often ask, “When will I see you again?”  or  “You’re leaving already?” I remember finding this irritating. I am visiting now! Why are you asking me this? How needy!

A little more than a week after Thanksgiving, I share her feelings. Having both of my children home, even if they were out with friends or doing homework, was wonderful. The fact that we will be back together in three weeks consoles me only a little.

I should be thankful. I got nearly a week with my entire family under one roof. It was joyful to be with them. I am grateful, but I am very eager to bring the entire family together again. Thanksgiving break wasn’t enough. It was a tease and a taste of times that are gone.

Yes, college students return home. But my elder is about to get her graduate degree and, hopefully, a job in a city far away. My younger has big summer plans. I am telling myself that I better learn to enjoy this new diet of family time because it is all I will get. But I haven’t accepted the reality of the situation yet.

I have come to terms with the term “empty nest.” My wife and I live here, so the nest isn’t entirely empty. Both of my children still call this their “permanent address,” but I think that will only be for a few more months. Neither has cleaned out his or her room or registered to vote or drive in another state – yet.

It has only been 105 days since our younger child went to college, but whose counting? It will only be another three weeks until he comes home for winter break. So what’s the big deal?

I miss my children. That is the deal. My friends tell me that I will adjust and come to love living in a quieter and childless home. I believe them. They love it. They may be right that I will love it, too. Someday. Not today.

Today, I miss my children. I hide my tears as the bus pulls out to take the younger back to college. I sniffle and pull myself together on the early morning ride from the airport dropping off the elder. While the kids have adjusted marvelously well, I am still in transition. Maybe I am becoming my grandmother.  

I haven’t become accustomed to an empty nest or the idea of long distance parenting. I get home and expect to see one of my children studying or watching television. When I return from services on a Friday night, I should be relieved that I can go to sleep and not wait up for someone to get home. I’m not. I wait up anyhow.

Thanksgiving Break is joyous. I will do anything to be with the kids. I went shopping on Black Friday. I went to a women’s clothing store and Bed, Bath, and Beyond. It doesn’t matter. Happily, the Thanksgiving meal is just half a day and I only have to share them a little. I find that I am jealous of my son’s high school friends who have been getting as much or more time with him as the rest of us. In addition to struggling with letting go, have I mentioned that I am not good at sharing my children either?

Not that I am complaining.

Thanksgiving break is a tease. Yet, it is a tease I was eagerly anticipating. It is not as long as winter break, but, after several months, I was thrilled that my home was full again. I could talk to my children without the assistance of technology, although not without the distraction of technology.

We are all growing up. I am just doing it a little more reluctantly.

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