For all of my big talk about easy transition with Nat moving back to school, leaving her in Marshall was no piece of cake today. We had a disagreement before we left home, and neither of us was very happy with the other, so it was probably a good thing that we were in separate cars. Anyway, we had lunch in Marshall and then went to the dorm. The only people in the dorm were the RAs, so we're talking about 3 or 4 people who will be spending the night in the dorm until sometime next week. She'll be busy during the day with training and cleaning and all kinds of RA duties and getting to know the other RAs better. She didn't seem to be too nervous about being there almost alone, so I put on a smile and said a prayer.
Saying goodbye in the Wal-Mart parking lot was tough. I had already teared up when Chris left us to go to Texarkana for quintet rehearsal, so I was certain I'd probably be a mess when I left. I don't remember being so emotional when we took Nick to UTA the second year. I guess there's something about leaving the youngest child and coming home to an empty house.
I'm reminded of a poem I taught in freshman English years ago - "Empty House" by Stephen Spender:
Then, when the child was gone,
I was alone
In the house, suddenly grown huge.
Each noise
Explained itself away
As bird, or creaking board, or mouse,
Element or animal.
But mostly there was quiet as after battle
Where round the room still lay
The soldiers and the paintbox and the toys.
But when I went to tidy these away,
I felt my mind swerve:
My body was the house,
And everything he’d touched, an exposed nerve.
The New Yorker Book of Poems, p.192
The Viking Press, The New Yorker Magazine, Inc. 1969
That's really how it feels. I'll close her bedroom door for a week or so before I venture in to clean and set things in order. It's weird...and sad...but only for Chris and me and only for a while. No, things are not the same and will never be the same again.
Natalie is happy and she's doing exactly what she should be doing. She's in the center of God's will for her life, and I can't wait to see how He leads her. We'll continue to love her, trust her, and always pray for her. She'll always be our Nattie Poo-Poo wherever she is.
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OK, jeepers, Denise...I was lying awake the night you wrote this, waiting for James to come home, and I was listening to all the sounds the house made, trying to identify each of them. The dishwasher switching cycles, the whir of the air conditioner, Cinnamon moving around, the branch that brushes the roof at the front corner of the house, until I felt, more than heard, the hum of the garage door rising. Later than he had promised, but still...
Beautiful poem, and a beautiful post. I'll be reading it again next weekend when we come back from Tuscaloosa to an empty house!!
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