cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
As I sit here, sipping my morning coffee and gazing out the window at my two teenage sons, I can’t help but daydream about the days when they’ll be off to college and my husband and I will be empty nesters. I love my kids more than anything in this world. They’re the light of…
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“You are one of the bravest people I know,” I squeaked, as tears filled my eyes. She kept my gaze as I spoke a blessing over her cross-country journey into the unknown. Without concrete work and with very temporary housing in place, she was moving back to L.A. after a long COVID relocation. A bright…
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I dislike the term “empty nester.” I understand the idea—I just don’t like referring to the space I’ve raised my family as a “nest,” which inherently makes me some kind of “momma bird.” In my mind, tacking a cutesy name on something sacred minimizes the significance.
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I’ve been going through boxes of old pictures, something I’ve been putting off until ‘someday’ for many years, determined to gather enough for each of our kids to have their own collection of childhood photos. It feels like another step in the transition from our family all living under one roof to being empty-nesters.
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Change. I grew up hating that word and knowing I didn’t handle change well; then as an adult learned that I had to welcome change, embrace change, love change if I was going to be a healthy, well-adjusted person.
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