Dear Mum,
You’ll never believe what happened. We moved Ms G into her own place! I know she’s ‘left home’ before, she even lived overseas for two years, but this time she TOOK HER STUFF!
At the end of moving day her room was empty (except for the wardrobe but we closed the door on that bottomless task). Something unexpected though. When we looked at the lounge room relieved of the bits and bobs Ms G had ’stored’ in house for the last decade, it turned out she owned a lot of what had settled into general family furnishings. All the potplants, bar two. The low chairs and a couch. The guitars stuffed along the wall in the library. It’s a surprise to see how much she had and how empty it is now. I actually quite like it it. Clear surfaces, exposed floorboards (so much easier to clean). Space.
“It looks like Nan and Pop’s place,” Ms G says. I looked at her and, I’m sorry mum, don’t take this the wrong way, but she was screwing up her nose. “It looks so bare. You need a rug, some pot plants, ooh, let’s go shopping and get some things for that space!”
But when I look at all the absences of objects I realise I can breathe. Right down into my lungs, fresh air, released from the space that had been occupied all this time by someone I love with all my heart.
Huh. I didn’t think that’s how it would feel. I thought I’d be devastated. I’d be standing on the front step, hanky gripped in my hand and a bravely composed face as I wave her goodbye. Instead, Himself and I stood in the kitchen doorway and high-fived. “One down!” Ms J’s jaw dropped in astonishment. Oh, you’d have laughed with us, Mum, she was so horrified that we were happy a kid had left home.
I wonder now…
Do you remember the day you and Dad took me down to start Uni in Melbourne? Here’s what I remember. I remember the look on your face (and the way my stomach dropped, not that I was going to let you know it) when we saw my tiny room on the third floor that was to be my new home. I remember the moment you drove away. I was standing on the footpath in front of the college in Royal Parade, waving as you left. What I remember clear as a bell is the sick feeling in the pit of my belly as the car turned the corner out of sight, how it roiled with excitement and began to morph into an exhilaration that I came to recognise as independence. Do you think Ms G feels exactly like that?
I also remember coming home after a few weeks in Melbourne to discover how quickly you’d packed my belongings into boxes and stacked them out of sight in the roof space. When I finally had my own house a box would appear in the boot of your car every visit and with the receipt of each part of my childhood I could feel the stitches that connected me to ‘home’ being unpicked with a sure, steady hand.
Do you know why I’m remembering those things right now? Well… it’s just that I filled the car with the contents of Ms G’s wardrobe. I was being helpful, you understand. I mean, the job needed finishing and I was clearly the right person to do it. I did have to rearrange my work day to make it possible. She hasn’t offered me my own key (yet) so I stretched out a couple of work tasks then sat in the car on the street for half an hour until she arrived home.
The look on her face when she saw the pile of her things in the boot, mum. You’ve no idea. (Actually, you probably do, I’m so sorry!!!).
“I asked you to wait, those boxes need to stay in storage at home,” I’m told coldly.
Storage! Who does she think we are? Are those things going to just take up space in MY cupboard so hers can be tidy? I wanted to sob and I wanted to laugh so I left ‘those boxes’ in the back of the car and drove home. Yes, Mum, I did buy a bottle of wine.
It does remind me though. I’ll be round to pick up my wedding dress from the upstairs wardrobe in the next few weeks. I know the cupboard is otherwise completely empty and it’s not getting in your way and it’s only been there for nearly 27 years but I can’t stand the thought that it’s occupying space in your mind.
Anyway, let me know if you’ve got time for a cuppa. I know you’re busy so I won’t keep you long. Actually, if you’re heading around to see her new place, can you take this bag of things I found in the laundry? It might be better coming from you. Talk soon!
Love, Melinda
Hi Melinda. Great snippet. This resonates with my also surprising feelings as Ms T went OS for 10 weeks. We filled the hole quite quickly, took over her room. Made me wonder how I’ll feel when she actually leaves to make her own nest elsewhere. I hope I won’t be devastated as I once expected. The test run went quite well….maybe too well through some eyes!
Lesson – take over the room early and quickly!!!
It’s quite wonderful how the ‘need’ for them to leave evolves from the urgent desire to keep them under you wing when they’re little through phases of gentle nudges out of the nest to test the breeze through to this point where there’s no shame in a firm push out into the world!