It is September 5th, Labour Day, the day before school starts
, the end of the summer holidays. September has always felt like the new year to me. It has always been a time of new beginnings, changes and transitions.
As a child, I remember hearing the crickets at night, and knowing that summer was coming to an end; knowing that the school year would soon begin; that the days would grow shorter and colder once more. I would feel sad that the slow, lazy days of summer were giving way to schedules and routines, but I would also feel excited about going back to school, about seeing friends and class mates again, about starting a new year of school.
As a parent, September emerged once again, as a time of change. September has ushered in most of the transitions in my children’s lives as they moved from child care to kindergarten, kindergarten to grade school, grade school to high school. Each September was marked by a flurry of activity along with a mixture of excitement and anxiety.
As the parent of an adult child, September has taken on a new meaning. Our home has been chaotic for weeks while our son built shelves, dissembled electronic equipment, and gathered belongings for his new home. Our son, who dreaded school all his life, has been eagerly anticipating this school year. He has been excited to get back to college; to move into his new home; to start the new school year. It has been thrilling to watch him bloom; to see him become clear about what he wants to do with his life; to watch him become passionate about his craft.
Yesterday, like parents across the country, we helped out son move into his new home. We left him and his house mates with a house full of boxes, climbed into our car, hot, sweaty and dirty, and drove away. We were quiet driving home. Feeling proud of the job we have done raising him. Feeling excited for him. And feeling sad about the changes in our little family unit; realizing that the years that we have had living together are coming to an end.
Today, we spent the day cleaning up, reorganizing the house, and moving furniture and pictures to fill the empty spaces left in our house. Tomorrow, we will begin to think about how we are going to fill the empty spaces in our lives.
afternoonstorm 
You made me cry, KP, with this poetic story. I can SO relate. I never had time, in the midst of raising my children, to think about what it would be like when they had ‘grown up.’ When my first son left home, I watched, sobbing, as he and his roommate pulled away from the house in a big SUV packed with their stuff. Thirty minutes later, I still couldn’t go back into the house because I couldn’t breathe inside. (That’s claustrophobia, I later learned.) It was two weeks until I could open the door to his room and file through the mess.
I know our relationships with our children don’t end, but the intimate life of ‘family’ does end and that’s painful. We truly do give them to the world. Thanks for this. Pam
Hi Pam….you are further down the road on this one than me, I think. I still have my daughter at home. But I still miss my son and know that our time with our daughter is coming to an end. It is one of those universal things; totally normal and healthy but still very difficult. My thoughts are with you!!!