My mind was spinning with the changes about to take place in my life. The day before, I’d helped Allie settle into her dorm room at my alma mater, the University of Washington. My daughter was about to spread her wings at college, just as I’d done all those years ago. Although I’d been looking forward to this day, I worried. Allie was nothing like her older brother, Paul. My son had been the man of the house and was more mature than his years, especially after his father left us. Allie could be overly emotional at times, and I had to admit I’d spoiled her, though not to the point that she was self-centered and irrational. I’d wanted her to commute from home the first couple years of college, but she insisted that she wanted to live in the dorms. Eventually I’d given in, remembering that my parents had given me that experience to let me soar on my own.
This move was big for Allie and equally big for me.
My nest was now empty.
The silent house had never felt louder. It was as if I could hear the hollowness surrounding me. While I had been looking forward to this time, I wasn’t completely sure what I wanted to do with myself. I’d spent the last sixteen years as a single mom, dedicating my life, my resources, and my everything to my two children, all the while juggling a full-time career. It hadn’t been easy being both mother and father, but I was smarter and wiser, especially in the area of men. I could fix a leaky pipe, clean gutters, and assemble a chest of drawers with instructions written in a foreign language. I was woman—and I could pound my chest as hard as any man.
And now, after years of attending sporting events—soccer, baseball, and basketball games, as well as swimming meets—I finally had time for myself. I thought of all the music lessons, the Girl Scout Cookie drives I’d organized, and how I’d been class mother for both Paul and Allie in their grade-school years. The last year Paul was in junior high, I’d been president of the PTA. My kids’ teeth were straight, and they both were grounded and obtained above-average grades.
As I looked out my window, I remembered that sense of elation mingled with worries and doubts which nearly overwhelmed me when I dropped Allie off at the college campus. I watched a green-and-white Washington state ferry sail toward Bainbridge Island.
I refused to let my concerns take away this special moment. I let the calming view settle my nerves and I turned my focus onto what this new season of life meant for me.
I’d raised my children, made sacrifices for them, stayed focused on their needs, but now I could look to the future and make plans of my own. Unlike their father, I’d taken my responsibility as a parent seriously. Kyle had proved to be a sorry disappointment as a husband, but especially as a father.
I had an entire list of what I hoped to accomplish in the next few years. For a long time, I’d wanted to find a creative way to express myself. Zumba class, painting. I’d been toying with the idea of creating a Bullet Journal, too. The possibilities were endless. And trips. I longed to travel, to see the world, study new cultures, taste the local cuisines. With France, especially Paris, on the top of the page, of course. Between my work schedule at the hospital and all the kids’ activities, I’d never found time to fit any of these things into my life.
But I could now.
Paris. The more I thought about it, the more I longed to make that trip a possibility. Maureen and I had put off that dream for far too long. Like me, Maureen was divorced now, too. We’d been single moms together all these years, and formed our own support group. Both of our marriages had gone down in flames, and Paris was shoved into the black hole called “someday.” Well, “someday” was now, finally within reach.
I dropped my legs from my perch and reached for the phone, calling Maureen to invite her over for a movie and some girl time together. She was quick to agree, eager to hear how Allie’s move-in at college had gone.
Before she arrived I had the popcorn popping, and for the fun of it, I’d downloaded Casablanca, hoping to remind her of our long-ago dream.