What’s in the Box?

The weekends and holidays spent without my kids these last nine months have left me feeling the way I imagine empty nesters feel – every waking moment is devoted to caring for your kids, and suddenly one day they’re gone. At first you wander aimlessly from room to room, waiting for someone to need you, for a child to ask for snacks, or to discover something that needs fixing or cleaning, and your coffee to inevitably grow cold on the counter. I spent those first solo weekends packing and house-hunting, but in the moments between I would stand in the kitchen waiting to be summoned.

Once you can reassure yourself it’s okay to sit and drink your coffee while it’s still hot, you remember all the plans you never made, trips you never took, that are suddenly possible. I ticked several items off my bucket list just for me, and it felt selfish but freeing. What would I do if I didn’t have to run it by anyone else? If I didn’t have to worry if the place I wanted to go served foods my kids are allergic to? If I wanted to stay out past their bedtime? There was a bit of internal warring between what seemed like a thing I should do (stereotypical divorcee activities) and what I actually wanted to do at first, but I managed to carve out a lot of joy for myself this year, which was a surprise.

Eventually, the empty nesters and I realize we can’t hop on a plane to fill every minute of solitude. I stand in my home making endless mental lists of things that need to be done, struggling to muster the focus to finish each item. When there are a thousand items on the list, it’s overwhelming just to make a start. School is right around the corner, and while the longer periods without my kids have been extremely difficult, I feel my heart rate climb when I think of the alternating weekends in their future, and zero weeknights with support for me. I love being a mom and can’t wait for my kids to get home from school, but as a person who is occasionally very ill, I worry constantly about not having backup in case of emergency. It’s the reason we relocated closer to family.

Staring into the gaping maw that is our future keeps me up at night. Not only with trepidation, but also with hope. I am not a patient woman. Unknowns make me itchy. I want to know what’s in the boxes under the Christmas tree right away. It’s not that I want the gifts, I just want to know what they are. I don’t want to skip the whole book, but I do want to read the last page so I know up front how it’s going to end. I can’t stand to go for a walk of undetermined length (unless I’m traveling, for the most part) I need a duration, distance, or destination. I will enjoy the journey, but I want to know the plan.

I’d like to have a chat with the universe. No, an interview. What is your five year plan? Where do you see us in ten years? Can you explain to the panel what your thought process was in 2020, and if you would change your actions given the opportunity, because seriously WTF?

I think good things are ahead for my kids and I, but I would like to know what, specifically, those things might be. I’m sure there will be challenges – no one escapes divorce unscathed – but if I could just see the list of obstacles coming down the pipeline that would really help. I love watching movies where, just before the credits roll, text appears on the screen wrapping up the main characters’ storylines. Erin Brockovich became a consumer advocate after working on behalf of the residents of Hinkley, CA. Or the fictional Joe and Sue got married and lived happily ever after with their seven corgis.

Who knows if I’d even like the real life version written for my family. Will my oldest kid run away from home to be a NASCAR driver? Will my daughter become a vet so she can pet animals every day? Will my middle kid burn down the house with a science project/to protest screen time limitations? Will I get better at switching back and forth from full time parent to adult on her own?

I want to enjoy every minute of the movie, but I’d really like to see our wrap-up text as soon as possible.