All is Quiet

With the girl still at arts camp and the boy studying Italian across the pond, I’m getting a preview of the empty nest.

It is an adjustment.

We come home to a living area free of Doritos wrappers, half-drunk pop cans and dirty clothes. Unoccupied rooms are properly unlit. The upstairs thermostat stays where I set it.

Sitting in the den, we hear only the hum of the refrigerator.

But I miss plenty.

I miss Jake at the piano, practicing for hours on end. I miss Andrea, bursting with song. I miss hearing them talk about their day, their futures.

As for the wife and me, we are concentrating on us, which has been nice.

This is just a rehearsal. The real thing is a year away.

We will survive.


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