Empty Nesting: A Great Time for Exploring

The Fourth of July might also be known as Independence Day, but I’d call the one we just had something closer to Togetherness Day.

Awwww, this is going to be sweet and maybe even a little schmaltzy, you’re predicting. And I’m not even getting into KA-BOOM fireworks. (Although I can’t resist saying, on that topic, that we noticed an odd difference this year with our 13-year-old dog not being nearly as anxious with the noise as he has previously been. Must be that his hearing is going — a mixed blessing.)

Back to the mysterious business of coupledom: now there’s a funny word.

If You Stay Put, You’d Better Find Ways of Heading Out

I wonder if anyone’s ever done a study to find out, on average, how much time two long-together partners/spouses spend doing things separately as opposed to how much time doing things together. OK, of course this figure would vary widely, depending on the couple, and the kind of habits they’ve developed through the years. Maybe country of origin or culture would also have an effect. And then there’s the factor of kind of work — how far from home, etc. I’m not sure whether one spouse watching another spouse do something (sit in a pew during a sermon, for instance; or sit on a bench during a tennis practice) would constitute a third kind of in-between category. *

Based on my limited experience, I’d like to posit that, especially after youngsters have been raised and sent off, a couple can reap big benefits from setting out on expeditions together. I’m not talking about grand trips like heading to Alaska or New Zealand (am currently a bit envious of people who have), but maybe just traveling a few towns over — which is what we did on the 4th.

The term “empty nest” comes from the magnificent world of birds, our beloved companions outdoors, many of whom lift us up (or wake us up) with their songs.

Funny thing, though: when they finish cuddling with their brood, OFF they go, too! There’s no hanging around to say, “What shall we watch on Netflix tonight, honey?” We’re different. Staying in the same domicile as we usually do, we almost-to-retirement-or-beyond humans need to identify ways of keeping our minds and bodies nimble, whetting our curiosity stones. And maybe giving one another reminders of what drew us together in the first place, too.

Blue Ridge Stormy Sky

At the end of June, after a family wedding in Virginia, Rob and I did a kind of touristy thing: we drove part of the Skyline Highway through the Blue Ridge Mountains in Shenandoah National Park. In that we were expected at a friend’s house by late that afternoon, we didn’t dawdle or get out and hike; but still, within our rental car was this kind of crackling feeling. “This is the first time either of us has been here and we’re absorbing the newness through all of our pores.” Well, that is, except for the 20 minutes when Rob — who had done all the driving so far — dozed off, trusting me to take the curves safely and not tailgate anyone. It was a kind of compliment, really. The fact that a thunderstorm happened right in the middle of the trip made it that much more dramatic. Here’s a moment when we stopped at a lookout.

He didn’t need to be a faith leader here, far from home and getting a few days break, but I must say he looks the part.

Just a few minutes after this, we came upon a scene that reminded us of the fragility of life. A doe and two fawns were crossing the road, near a big meadow; but one baby had trouble keeping up and clearly felt daunted by the vast pavement ahead. I almost stopped the car — what would I have done? — but Rob gently encouraged me on, saying, “The mother will come back.” Something about how he said it assured me that all those years of child-raising had left him with confidence about the power of parental devotion.

Back in New Hampshire, we saw how our son eagerly packed up and shipped boxes in preparation for his departure to a new city, new apartment, new job. I imbibed his readiness, the rightness of it all. Kindly, he let me know that the frequency with which we’d communicate henceforth might take a dip. Fair enough; yes, of course.

I recalled my own mother — never one who hovered over her five kids — saying something like, “Go ahead, leave the nest! I’m ready” with a wave of her hand, for emphasis. (She loved golf with a passion, too). I didn’t mind this encouragement at the time. Now, though, in my own mother self, I felt a distinct strand of sadness woven in to the fabric of mostly happiness.

New Hampshire Solid Ground

After Henry boarded that bus, I knew that it was important for the three of us — dog, absolutely — to head out somewhere new. Life required a Refresh button. Surely, there must be a perfect trail an easy distance away, waiting for discovery. We didn’t need the sumptuous views of Skyline Drive, only a place where we could start and finish together, with the in-between offering good possibilities.

The early part of the trail we chose (website said it would be a three-mile loop) looked encouraging, like so many old, wide paths around here are. Soon afterwards, though, when we reached a field, it was almost impossible to find: no blazes on trees, nothing worn with frequent use. We pressed on for a while through the woods, Rob valiantly certain he could lead us, despite getting bitten like crazy; Rocky game for whatever we set out to do and grateful for any muddy pools he found. But when I lost my enthusiasm and eventually advocated turning around, those two didn’t object. We were staying a unit. Back we went, along the old stone wall that belonged to a long gone farm, through the pink wildflowers mixed into the tall grass, swishing as we walked. The road we drove back on, starting as dirt and becoming paved, was a revelation, all on its own — perfect for a future bike ride.

It was a glorious afternoon.

Can you recall a time when, sensing one kind of closing up, you got the spark you needed to enter a new opening?

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* I recently had an essay published about watching my husband construct a labyrinth in our back yard. You can read it here: https://ninetenthspress.com/issue-2-summer-2022/