In this too-big, too-empty house that was way too small for so many years

Years that seemed like they may never end and yet went by too quickly- and without our permission 

If only we could rewind 

So many years of schedules and sports and tasks and homework and projects and tests and assignments 

Of early mornings and late evenings and toys and smelly athletic equipment all over the place

And now- what?

Where’s the pitter patter, the banging and crashing and yelling and screaming and whining/complaining and hugging and cuddling (so much cuddling) and good morning/goodnight kisses

and laughing 
and laughing 
and laughing

The calls to “Bring me this,” “Can you pick me up?” “Where are you?” “ Have you seen my…?” “This is due tomorrow” and “I’m HUNGRY!” are no more

The busy practice schedules and game lineups by which we set our calendar are missing, and the days and nights, and weekends are now wide open: fluid

EMPTY

There is no frantic pace nor time to be home or wake up early or drop everything to take or pick up

No hurried trips to the store for this or that and no creative menus to prepare and to watch be enthusiastically devoured 

Gone are the excited bursts through the door announcing victories or accomplishments or team news or funny “Guess what happened today” or “Can you believe…” or “Promise you won’t get mad” or talks about heartbreaks or observations or big plans and dreams 

Now there is SILENCE

The messy rooms are all cleared out, just spaces where echoes of childhood remain

There are no more shoes and fishing gear and book-bags and sports stuff on the porch (which would normally be a good thing)—except, sadly, there is no prospect nor anticipation for them to return

And so here we are 
Trying not to look back
Not sure where the hell we are supposed to look 

As we try to navigate, define or redefine this life that has wrapped and captivated and occupied and made us who we’ve been for so long 

But not nearly long enough

There is accomplishment and freedom, pride and relief

But the “Big, Wide Open” is terrifying 

Like coming up for air only to find that you long to dive back down deep and stay there 

So now we wait
And take it all in
And take a deep breath
And a million more

In this too-big, too-empty house where the silence is deafening.  By Dr. Mary Jo Almeida-Shore