Coming Home – To An Empty Nest

Like so many of my friends, I left home at the start of the year I turned 18. Within a matter of weeks I had my birthday, all four wisdom teeth out, got my licence and was deposited in residences in Carlton. It was a whirlwind of new things and a welcome entree into adulthood. I remember opening the door to my college room and the sensation of my heart sinking when I saw it, the bare smallness of it, is still visceral. No familiar names were evident on the doors of my new neighbours and all my school friends had found accommodation in colleges ‘on campus’. They were nearby but not with me. I remember standing on the footpath on Royal Parade and waving goodbye to my parents as they drove away and feeling so alone. This was it.

I would hop on the train back to Bendigo every second weekend, if memory serves me correctly, for most of that first year. It was obvious to me that life at home continued on quite happily in my absence. I wanted to be hurt by the ease with which my family could apparently go on without me there but I was too distracted by the fun I was having in Melbourne. Uni life was stimulating and I revelled in the study (yes, I’m that person). College life was even more amazing. Neighbours were quickly friends and the constant activity kept me so busy. I played tennis and netball, sang in the madrigal choir, joined the Food Committee (of course I did!) and found my tribe for the first time. Funnily enough, they were other country kids venturing into the city just like me. It turns out those invisible ties run deep!

One year rolled into another at college rolled into moving out into a share house rolled into travelling with a friend rolled into moving interstate for a clinical placement. At some point in all of this I realised that I had moved out of home. It probably occurred to me when my parents sold our family home and moved into town and there wasn’t a bedroom in the new house for me. I wanted to feel offended by it but couldn’t argue with the fact that I was never going to use it. I had a bed squeezed into the tiny study whenever I went home and was more than happy with that. Other than a period of about a fortnight between the end of my Uni placement and beginning my first real job (and a few months while we renovated… ) I have never lived at home with my parents again. 

I often talk about waiting excitedly to have an empty nest. Truthfully, it promises to be quite an interesting phase of life and I do look forward to it! That said, I have an inkling that the process of that transition will be long, drawn out, and more emotional than I anticipated. Leaving home is not as simple for our three peeps. The pandemic interrupted many plans and processes and the cost of living has proven an enormous psychological, if not practical, barrier to their ability to leave this nest. Inevitably, though, the time is nigh. More and more often we realise that we are home alone.

And now I see the beginnings of a more formal, longer term separation on the horizon. Ms G and Mr T are making plans. They’re off. Jobs finished, car sold, passports sorted and tickets booked. They are stretching out their wings and flexing them ready to take flight.

It’s fascinating to see the different reactions Ian and I have. We are the typical glass half full/empty couple. When Ms G started talking about plans to travel all I felt was excited envy, Ian experienced a wave of loss. Both of us felt the emotions of the other but the balance left us off kilter. I wanted to be a part of the planning, scour maps, buy a backpack, set them up to go! Ian … well, I’m not going to try and put words into his mouth. Suffice it to say that it’s not as easy as we thought it would be and there are so many different ways we have already and probably will react in the future as these awesome young humans start to take their first steps into the world away from Ardley. Yes, I’m right, it’s exciting. And yes, (drumroll, please, as I won’t say this often!) Ian is right as well. It’s sad and emotional. Our babies have grown up!

How could my children go out in the world if they felt as attached to me as I do to them?

I’d like to think that for my children, I was a baseline, not the highpoint I hope that my love for them will be the Z-axis from which point their loves and their lives shoot outwards and upwards.

Ben Ball (Women of Letters)

Isn’t that a wonderful way to capture our intentions as parents?

On that February day in 1991 when we drove down the Calder towards International House I didn’t really think about it as ‘leaving home’. I was ‘going to Uni’. It’s an important difference. I was just doing the next thing. I wasn’t making a huge, long term life decision. I am so lucky to have parents who were always and still are a safe place to land should things go badly. I’ve rarely needed to use that fallback but the comfort of knowing they are there is often enough to make hard decisions easier. As a parent now myself I know that mum and dad taught me that’s who I want to be too. The safe landing place between other stops on the journey of life.

And therefore this last bit is for my three babes.

You are awesome. You have got what it takes. You don’t need to decide to ‘leave home’. You just need to try the next thing. Go forth and give it a go. We will always be here and there will always be a bed for you… somewhere in the house. We will be ready to hear your tales of both wonder and woe and we will wave you off when you are ready to try the next thing after that. I can’t wait to see what it is!