The Great Exhale

Seven weeks ago we drove our youngest daughter back to Ohio State for her sophomore year.  Seven weeks have passed since we combined all that she brought back with her at the end of freshman year, plus all that she accumulated over the summer, plus all the new things she thought she'd need and tried to develop a plan for finding a place for it in her new room. Seven weeks have gone by since we aggressively packed the van with ALL OF THE THINGS hoping, but not quite believing, that everything would fit.  Seven weeks since we unloaded all of her stuff in the rain, helped to get her settled, and then said a quick and slightly awkward goodbye on the street outside of her sorority. It is not the same sadness as last year, but it still doesn't feel natural.

 Once we returned home, I felt the house let out a great exhale. It seemed to be relieved to be free of the boxes, bags, and bins that had been increasingly cluttering the house and weighing it down. As I went to work cleaning up the remains of the packing and doing the kind of room cleaning that is only possible when said daughter is not around, I sighed. The house was finally clean and quiet, order restored. But in that great exhalation of the house, it breathed out more than the clutter- it also breathed out some of the life and light and laughter.  It is emptier in ways big and small.


In each week that passes, I feel the house exhale a little more.  In a quiet but steady hiss of breath, I can feel the passing of time, the release of more life.  I bag up the clothes my daughter left behind to donate.  In the pile, I see the Hershey's sweatshirt that was her favorite souvenir from our trip to NYC right before we moved to NJ.  I tenderly fold up the outgrown t-shirts from our many family trips to Disney World.  I flinch when I see her high school cheer clothing in the pile.  Wasn't that one of the biggest things in her life not that long ago? I know she has moved on. Hiss...

I clean out the bathroom and am struck by the number of lotions and potions left behind.  I plan to throw out many of them thinking I will encounter the usual pile of dried out sparkly nail polish, Bath and Body Works lotions and gels, and various tubes of lip gloss; but instead, I am struck by the mature nature of what's left behind.  Shampoos specific to her hair type, face creams, a small fortune in "good" makeup.  I end up organizing more than I throw away.  These are adult things.  Hiss...

My husband and I spend a hard weekend cleaning out the garage and all of the many toys and games that once occupied the time and attention of our girls.  Scooters, basketballs, yard games, old signs for lemonade stands, bats, balls, riding gear, lacrosse sticks, sleds, snowboards. Much is given away, but I hold onto the bare essentials. I put them in a bin on the top shelf unsure that they will ever be used again but not quite ready to let them go.  Our garage transformed from the messy garage of people with children to the garage of adults- clean, organized, and somewhat less full of life. Hiss...

I go through my own closet with a new eye for what I will and won't be wearing.  I say goodbye to many clothes that represent a life that I am no longer living.  I say goodbye to the spirt t-shirts that I dutifully bought each year.  I sort through the pile of green and gold t-shirts and fondly remember the fun cheer trips to Disney. I part with much of the more structured clothing that went along with my more structured life. I see the dresses that I wore to the high school graduations of my girls and wonder if I will ever wear them again.  I suspect the answer is no, but I hold onto them for now.   My priority is moving to comfortable clothes that make me feel good and fit this new life I am creating.
Hiss...

We say goodbye to a car- our much-loved Mini Cooper convertible. I remember the promise we made of one day getting a convertible and the excitement when that day arrived.  I think about the sunny days when we would climb in and go for a drive to nowhere, anywhere, but usually, somewhere that ended in ice cream.  I remember driving away from the city lights on a warm summer night and seeing the stars so vividly that we pulled over to appreciate them and were rewarded with our very own shooting star.  I remember the cool air and bright sun of fall days when we would drive to enjoy the changing leaves then fight to keep the top down as the temperatures dropped and our bodies shivered.  I remember girls who used to fit comfortably in the small backseat asking to drive the car one last time. Hiss...

We try to plan a family trip for next summer and then realize it is impossible.  Our older daughter will be graduating from college in May and moving on to unknown horizons. I silently note that my husband and I were planning our wedding at that age and feel momentarily grateful for the uncertainty in her plans! Our younger one will be looking for an internship. Neither one of them knows for sure when or if they will be home next summer.  Hiss...

More life seems to flow out of the house than back in at this point. But, it doesn't feel sad exactly, it just feels like it is what it is meant to be.  Where last year there was sadness and even a little fear, now there is acceptance.  A reckoning is taking place- after years of moving fast, my inner life needs to catch up to the ever-changing outer life.   Now is time to reconcile the life I once had with the life I currently have.  It has changed dramatically and will continue to shift and move in ways both expected and not. Adapting is not optional.

Where our children once provided the life force in our home through their various activities, their lively friends, and their mere presence; now we will be responsible for creating a new life force. What we choose to bring into our home and what we choose to let go of will be up to us.  How I fill my days will ultimately become how I live the rest of my life. The opportunity to reinvent a life is both daunting and exciting.  While I will always be a mom first, now the time has come for me to also think about my own shelved dreams and desires for the future. Who knew I'd be trying to find myself again at 51!

These days I find myself sighing a lot.  It is not a sigh of frustration or sadness, but more a sigh of acceptance.  My deep exhalation is a way of releasing the old and making room for the new.   My daughter will be home soon for October break.  I will enjoy every minute with her and then I will put her on a plane back to her new life. I will wipe away a few tears and then I will return to my new life. The comings and goings.  The packing and unpacking.  The sweet hellos and the sad goodbyes. This is the new normal.

 The house will take a deep breath and exhale again and again. And so will I.





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