Helene Cohen Bludman recently published a poignant piece about what life is like after your kids have grown and moved away — when the house is silent, and you’re still going from room to room and cleaning up after children who have become adults:
“Don’t forget to text me when you land,” I call out as he lugs his bag over the curb and makes his way to the entrance. He turns to wave, then disappears into the crowd of holiday travelers.
And with that, the last of my three children has left the family nest for a home many miles away.
I come back to a house that is much too quiet, devoid of the shrieks of laughter, good-natured ribbing and late night comings and goings that marked my children’s stay over the holiday season. My husband is already going from room to room, picking up a stray sock or an empty soda can, getting our house back in order. Tomorrow I will return to my normal routine, but tonight, I will wallow in a bit of sadness.
My son and two daughters have grown up to be delightful young adults, funny, thoughtful, affectionate. We have great times together.
Problem is, we just don’t see each other all that often.
You can read the entire piece at Huffington Post.