The Empty Nest Syndrome

I felt like someone had sucked the breath right out of me. My chest hurt so bad I thought I was having a heart attack. I had held back the tears until I reached the car, but as soon as we were out of sight, they flowed down my cheeks like a busted water pipe.

I had left my 18 year old son in the dorm. He seemed perfectly content in that strange room that didn't yet have his Dale Earnhardt posters on the wall. He was happy with his roommate, a sophomore who also played the drums, but didn't like basketball. He was excited that basketball practice was to start that very afternoon, but he had forgotten to pack his favorite pair of practice shorts.

I thought of every excuse to go back to the school, rather than going to the hotel room we'd rented across town. My dear sweet husband, just patted my shoulder and then picked up my hand and held it while he drove with the other. He hadn't done that in years. It was little comfort.

The three hour drive back to our hometown the next day was the longest three hours of my life. I cried off and on the entire time, as each minute ticked off another mile between me and that tiny baby that I had given birth to. It didn't matter that he was now 6'2" and playing college basketball. In my eyes, he was still that 6 pound 15 ounce bundle of screaming baby boy that they had lain across my chest that night so long ago.

We arrived home and I went into his room...which was now clean for the first time in I couldn't remember when. I laid across his bed, the one that had no sheets, blankets or pillows, because he had taken them all with him! I picked up a shirt that he had decided not to take and put it away in the near empty drawer. Then I sat down in the floor and burst into tears again.

That was six months ago. His room remains empty, except for an occasional weekend visit, that usually involves at least one of his college buddies. I no longer cry at the mention of his name. I still miss him, but I have developed a plan for survival.