Earlier this evening I saw a forum thread by a mother who has just seen her first child off to college. It reminded me of the times my own children headed off to college, and got me thinking about empty nests and the doors to our homes that sometimes turn into "swinging doors". My reflections on my own experience follow:

Over the last few years I've had one child go to college, one at home; then the one at home went to college, but the one who graduated moved back for a while; then he moved out again; but the one in college decided to move back and commute to a different school. As it stands it now, I have two in apartments (the eldest one wasn't part of this recent swinging door situation) and one home and finishing up her degree from here.

Each time someone moved out I was happy for them but "mixed-feelings" for me (with a big part of that mix not being the happiest of emotions).

When my youngest headed off to live at school my friend up the street invited me up that night. My daughter's father had to be elsewhere, so I went and I did something I've never done in my life - talk and drink wine with her until midnight. (I usually have about two glasses of wine every five or six months, if that.) Talking the evening away with my friend, drinking wine, and knowing I didn't have to be home at all suddenly brought me back to when I was young and single (and I have to say I kind of liked it ). As I walked down my quiet street at midnight, I was feeling pretty "wild and crazy" (for a mother). I hadn't told anyone where I was going and hadn't had to leave anybody any notes about where I was or when I'd be back. I live in a relatively safe suburb; but as I "bravely" walked "all the way around the circle" it occurred to me that if I were murdered or "gotten by a wild animal" on the way home nobody would have any idea I was gone (at least for a while ). The "freedom" of it, even in the melancholy of it all, gave me a tiny thrill. I thought to myself, "Once this melancholy thing passes, you're going to find a little more of the 'old you' you'd forgotten." The melancholy passed (the way it has passed every time someone has moved out, and no matter how often someone has moved out). (Later I thought I'd be funny and tell my daughter that while she was getting used to her first night there, I was getting drunk with my friend. (LOL) I wasn't really drunk, and my daughter knew it - but we both laughed anyway.)

Just this evening my daughter and her boyfriend were here. Then they left, and her father was here. Then her brother came for a visit. My daughter and her boyfriend returned, my son went back to his apartment, and his father had somewhere to go. What I've learned is that, with grown kids, the nest is really never empty; and that swinging door keeps swinging (even if the stays are shorter).