And Suddenly, the House Was Empty...

My daughter, now almost 20, moved out of the house last year. This, of course, is natural, and to be expected, but if you are a single parent with only one child, the change in your life is so abrupt and immediate, and bizarre.

There is nothing you can do to prepare for it - even though you know it's coming. You think you're prepared, but you aren't.

The worst part for me was waiting for the door to open at night. I could never really fall asleep until I heard the door open and my daughter come in. Once I heard the lock turn, the door squeak open, then close, and the lock turn again, my world was right and I would drop off to sleep effortlessly.

Then suddenly, that would never happen again. Within a week of her departure from the nest, I knew that or the rest of my life, I would go to bed - and just go to bed. I became aware that there would be no waiting for the lock to turn, announcing the safe arrival of my daughter back home for the night.

There will also be no more meal planning, no stray laundry and other junk to collect from all corners of the house. No food stuck to the counter, no wet towels all over the bathroom floor...

Until it all comes to an abrupt stop, you have no idea that you will miss these things that once drove you batty.

And now, almost a year later, I find that I eat far too much toast, and if you were to inspect the contents of my compost bucket, you would think I survived solely on coffee and bananas (you'd never know about the toast, because I eat the crusts, leaving no evidence).

Life has changed so drastically. Where I used to buy all kinds of wonderful groceries and cook yummy creative meals and was fastidious about nutrition, baked cookies and banana bread... I now just make toast. If I do buy vegetables from time to time, they seem to rot in the fridge, as I forget about them completely. Besides, they are no good on toast.

And at this point, I find myself talking to the dog, and worse, expecting that he understands what I am saying. He's very understanding and supportive.

It's an adjustment, this empty nest. It's as strange as when I first had my daughter - when I suddenly became "Fraea's Mom". I was rarely called Morgana in almost 20 years - I was Fraea's Mom.

And though I am still Fraea's Mom - now I am Morgana again.

Morgana... It sounds odd when I say it and when I hear it. I wonder - who is this Morgana?

I know, of course, it's me... but who am I now? Who have I become now that the label in which I found the depth of my identity for 20 years, has shifted?

Hmmmm. I need to go make some toast and think about that.