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You think you’ll feel one way about something, but end up feeling another. My oldest son Patrick moved out recently. I expected to feel easy-going about it, ready. After all, he’s 25. It’s time. But I felt something different.

The sight of his empty room hit me harder than expected. All his furniture is gone except for this huge roadside “Detour” sign left over from high school. (I never did get the full story of how it made its way from the street to his bedroom).

Rock posters are still tacked to walls. Stray CD’s, ancient sports trophies and hand-made clay bowls from elementary school line the shelves. A room once filled with my son’s sweet, solid presence is hushed and still.

I look around and realize I’ve come full circle.

Twenty-five years ago, I sat in a hospital bed after a rough and scary delivery. I felt weak, exhausted and scared. How would I ever summon the energy to care for an infant?

A few days later, feeling better, I was switched to another, cheerier part of the maternity ward.

That sunny Saturday, my husband Randy and I were allowed to spend all day with our new son. He lay in his bassinette, wrapped in that pink and blue-striped hospital blanket, so calm and sweet.

For the first time, I was allowed to hold him as long as I wanted and even change his diaper. We fed him and cooed, marveling at all his baby perfections.

For Randy and me, it was our first, hard-won moments of parenthood. We gazed at this tiny infant, not knowing who he would be or what he would become.  Ready or not, we were a family.

Twenty-five years later, we watch our oldest boy, now burly and bearded, drive down our driveway in a U-haul truck, his meager possessions in back.

I watch and can’t help think of that first Saturday we spent together in the hospital. This day is also a sunny Saturday. But unlike then, which was a beginning, today is an ending. The long, sweet time I lived with my oldest child is over.

A few minutes later, Randy and I find ourselves gazing at his empty room.  I think of the greatest hits from this quarter century — Baby & Me groups, Barney the Dinosaur, soccer games, band jams, driving lessons, math tutors, graduations. How fast the weeks, months and years sped by.

And although this is a poignant interlude, I must confess something here. The greedy, reptilian part of my brain is starting to kick in. I see how this moment represents more than my son leaving home. It also means a new chapter for me.

I turn to my husband. “What’s the equivalent of a Man Cave?”

He arches his eyebrows. “A Diva Den?”

I smile. I like it. In 36 years of marriage I’ve never had my own space. My husband would argue the whole house is mine. But that’s not the same.

Even though I’ve been happy to share our bedroom for 36 years, I’ve never had a “room of one’s own” to quote Virginia Wolfe. Unlike my husband and sons, I’ve had no place in the house I can shut the door and call mine.

This is exciting, I think, ideas starting to percolate. I desperately need a guest room, but what else? A desk for writing?  A place to do yoga? Or listen to music?  Or just veg? A private dance studio?

It’s a nice dilemma.

He and I start to leave when my eye catches on that “Detour” sign.

I debate whether to keep it and decide it will stay for now as a reminder. Detours make life interesting.

I remember those young parents in that hospital room so long ago. We had no idea of the amazing, gratifying, and at times hair-raising journey ahead. We knew nothing of the detours that come with raising sons.

Patrick, too, had his own share of detours. Once allergic to classrooms, he’s now going for his Masters in Psychology, a field suited to his perceptive, empathetic nature. It’s a road he (nor we) could ever have predicted.

I close the door on that for-now-empty room and realize something else. I can’t deny a feeling that somehow Randy and I graduated.  One kid launched.  One to go. We can take a bow.

We not only survived, but learned and grew from this era that began in a sunlit hospital room… and ended with my bearded son and a U-Haul.

 

Do you have an empty nest? Comments are always welcome and if you like, please share.

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Comments(20)

  1. All three of mine have been out of their rooms for over three years now, and I’m still working on what the rooms will become. I have usurped the area under my son’s double loft bed to create what I call my craft cave. But the furniture, socks, pajamas bottoms, old shoes, even old toys, still linger.

      • Laurie Stone

      • 8 years ago

      Pennie, A craft cave sounds cool. There’s a lot of mixed feelings in this time. Its both empowering and poignant. Thank you for reading.

  2. Ah, the mixed feelings of transitions. I don’t have kids but I know I’d feel the same way you do when my kids left the nest.

      • Laurie Stone

      • 8 years ago

      Carol, Its an interesting stew of poignancy, excitement and awe that time goes so fast. Thank you for reading.

  3. I’m going through very similar emotions. My daughter is a Jr. in college, so rarely here and my youngest (my son) is about to go to college in August. The empty nest thing is kicking in fiercely for me right about now. I love your idea of the Diva den!

      • Laurie Stone

      • 8 years ago

      Claudia, We’re late coming to the empty nest thing, since Patrick commuted to college. I bet its even harder when they’re younger and go off to school. That must be very emotional. Thank you for reading.

  4. Okay, this is pathetic. My daughter is 34, married, pregnant and living in Boston (I”m in Atlanta) and I don’t even live in the same house that we did when she was growing up. But, her bedroom furniture is now our guest room furniture and I go in that room to smell the wood because it reminds me of her and the “old days.”

    But I do love having control over all the space now. Diva-denners, unite!

      • Laurie Stone

      • 8 years ago

      Lee, Completely understandable. I’d probably do the same. Congratulations on becoming a Grandma! How exciting. A new stage of life.

  5. When my older son took off for college, we did a little room shifting. My youngest moved into his brother’s room, and I took over his room for my writing space. The color of the walls is called “Cherry Malt,” which, let’s face it, is really pink, but like the pink of an older brick wall. I have a big green chair-and-a-half for reading and reading to the littles when they visit–but also the usual desk/chair/computer stuff. I have not had a “room of my own” since before I was married over 40 years ago and I highly recommend it! Have fun planning your Diva Den!

      • Laurie Stone

      • 8 years ago

      Thanks so much, Risa. Your room sounds awesome.

  6. Diva den? OH.EM.GEE. I cannot wait to design one! It will have toile wallpaper, lots of shelves for all of my books and magazines, a cozy upholstered window seat with lots of throw pillows, and a gorgeous midcentury modern table desk. Thank you for the inspiration!!

      • Laurie Stone

      • 8 years ago

      Mithra, Toile wallpaper? Never thought about that. How cool. I love your ideas. Now you’re giving me ideas. Thanks for reading.

  7. All 3 of mine are in their 40’s but keep moving in and out for one reason or another, so don’t get to comfortable in your “Diva Den”..

      • Laurie Stone

      • 8 years ago

      Renee, Believe me, I’ve thought of that, especially in this economy. I’ll keep beds in there just in case! Thanks for reading.

  8. I did not keep my kids rooms as their rooms at all. One became a sewing room for me, and one became a nice clean and tidy guest room.

      • Laurie Stone

      • 7 years ago

      Michele, We turned my son’s room into a much-needed guest room and never looked back. Funny thing is, when my son comes to visit these days, he still takes a nap in his old room. Some things never change!

  9. It just happens too fast. Too, too fast.
    I remember being wheeled down the hall for my first baby’s delivery and thinking that our lives were about to change forever. No longer just ‘him’ and ‘me’ but him and me and one more.
    A little scared. A lot excited.
    Now I look at that forty-something boy and his six (yes, six!) kids and wonder if there was ever life without him!
    Empty nesting…ugh.
    Fortunately, my kids come home frequently. That lessens the pain. A bit.
    And I do have my office. More cluttered than I’d like, but MINE!

      • Laurie Stone

      • 4 years ago

      Diane, I can’t imagine being a grandma. Sounds wonderful. Right now, both my sons are living home (one going to grad school, one on leave from his job due to Covid-19) so have a full house. It’ll be a sad day, though, when it’s empty of our kids forever. Sniff.

  10. I still have my two boys at home, but I dread the day they are both gone. I know it’s coming in the blink of an eye. A diva den sounds nice though…but I have an office. Mind you my husband has taken it over.

      • Laurie Stone

      • 4 years ago

      Lauren, An office sounds wonderful. Right now, I write in my kitchen, but love the idea of somewhere private and quiet.

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