It’s so quiet in this house.
The last of my four grandchildren has gone off to college, leaving a vast expanse of emptiness. I live with and next door to all of them, and I’m so used to their activity that the newfound silence is almost deafening.
I’ve been honored and blessed to be a part of their active lives. That being said, I have not been without children to care for since 1968. After my own two children were off to college, I took care of a niece who spent her senior year of high school with us. Then the grandchildren were born. There were twins who had health issues and their parents moved in with us. One thing evolved into another until here I am. No more children at home.
I enjoy cooking, and I’ve made dinner for 10 people almost every night for 21 years. A rotation of hearty, mostly kid-friendly meals like spaghetti, tacos and endless variations on the theme were on the table at 5:30, sharp. In early days the conversation around the table consisted of school activities. It slowly evolved into heated political and social discussions, with the adults musing at how times have changed.
After they had been reading awhile I created our own book club. With high hopes I launched it with “Treasure Island.” What young reader doesn’t like “Treasure Island”? Apparently these kids. Undaunted, I moved on to “Hatchet,” then “Homecoming.” I got a set of books for each one of them. The books fell into their laps, they wriggled and squirmed and one fell asleep. At long last my youngest grandson kept me company in the sunroom as we read “Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry” to completion. Now the title is code between us for success.
In early years there was the excitement of the opening days of school, accompanied by photos and high hopes. I treasure the photos of them in school uniforms with gap-toothed smiles. School picnics were standout occasions.
Later we had music recitals, orchestra concerts, awards assemblies, sports events, school plays and open houses to attend.
The last child to leave selected on his own all the usual things for his dorm room. He had watched and learned. Packed and ready, the entire family drove him to Orono, wished him all the best and drove back to Portland.
Now the house is quiet. I’m not ready. We don’t fill up the dinner table and our conversations are boring.
I’m so proud of them. Three are on track to graduate from college this spring, and then there’s the freshman finding his way.
I am moving through the paces of finding my way without them. I hear their footsteps on the stairs, I look for their shoes in the entryway. I cook rather dispiritedly. Most importantly, though, I’m weepingly proud of them and send wishes for them to have a wonderful year.
Send questions/comments to the editors.
