Copyright Business Insider
When my 18-year-old son started college this fall, I became an empty nester. I have a few friends with kids the same age, and have been half-jokingly bemoaning with them how quiet our houses have become. But while my married friends are focused on the reality of figuring out life as a couple without kids at home, including taking up new hobbies together and posting photos of the travels they're now embarking on together thanks to their newfound extra time, as a single parent, the shift feels different, and lonelier. Splitting custody made the divorce feel easier, at first My ex-husband and I divorced five years ago, but we've remained close friends and committed co-parents, sharing custody of our now 21-year-old and their younger brother. When we split, I wasn't interested in keeping the house we shared, as I was the spouse who initiated the divorce, and my work involves a fair amount of travel. Instead, I rented a three-bedroom apartment in a complex directly across the street from my old neighborhood, believing that was the easiest and most seamless way to maintain our 50/50 custody arrangement. Last year, however, my older kid decided that going back and forth each week had become a hassle, especially with two guinea pigs and the books and supplies needed for their graphic design program. They wanted to stay with their dad full-time, and since they were an adult and their dad was OK with it, I reluctantly agreed. I felt their absence all the time, but I was grateful their brother was still staying with me every other week. He and I quickly established our own rituals: taking turns playing songs on Spotify during dinner, watching episodes of "The Good Place" or "Brooklyn Nine-Nine" afterwards, going on walks or doing yoga. When class and work schedules allowed, both kids would join me for dinner. When my younger son went to college, everything changed But everything changed in August, and after my ex and I drove to our son's college together to move him in, we returned home to our separate residences. (We're both in serious relationships, though mine is long-distance.) Now, my three-bedroom abode suddenly seems cavernous, and I'm navigating the silence of a home that once felt full. I can literally see my old neighborhood from my patio, and I've come to believe that in some ways I'm still floating in between my old life and my new one. With both kids having flown the nest, and a life filled with an amazing relationship, travel, friends, and satisfying work, it's time for a change. I've recently started prepping for a downsized move, systematically using the Marie Kondo method to purge my space, donating, tossing or recycling clothing, books, papers, kitchen and bathroom items, and momentos. My kids have also cleaned out their former rooms at my place, tossing or taking items to the house where they grew up. My new place will be 20 minutes away — but it might as well be an hour. I'll no longer be easily able to swing by my old house and grab my older kid for an afternoon walk or invite them over for spontaneous dessert. That's going to take some adjustment. I'm also a little worried that they'll view my new location as "too far" to pop over. I'm encouraging both of my kids to come over for dinner, movie nights, and sleepovers in the spare bedroom, which they seem excited about. And while it might sound weird, after nearly 25 years in the same neighborhood, it's going to feel odd to frequent grocery stores and restaurants in a new town. But as my kids start their next chapters, I need to make a cleaner, more definitive break from my old life, rather than merely dabble in a new one like I've done for five years. It might not be easy. Or maybe it'll be easier than I'm imagining.
