Crying over a grapefruit in a grocery store and other empty nester emotions

 

One week of empty nesting. One week of a certain weird quiet and a wrenching feeling inside that won’t leave. It may have been there for a while, but logistics and excitement and the general hum-ho of the move dulls it. So much excitement, so much movement, so much activity, so much fun. Of youth and adventure and campus experience.

It hits when you come back to an empty house. When the dog plants herself on the kid’s bed and won’t budge. She misses the kid too. She senses something is amiss. Or perhaps, she feels it in your sadness.  

It comes in waves they tell you. It does. It hits at random moments when there is no protective layer of rationality, or reason, or being busy. Raw and unprotected, it hits you.

I am in the grocery store, I see some big, beautiful, grapefruits and instinctively pick one. I hold it, only to realize that there is no one at home to enjoy it. My kid is the grapefruit enthusiast and she is faar faar away.

I need to put it away. Instead, I continue holding it. I hold on to it, I stand there staring at it. My arm seems heavy and I finally reluctantly let go of the grapefruit. Only, to continue to stand there, staring at it. Who knows for how long. Am I really going to cry in the grocery store, in front of a pile of grapefruits?

When did my existence get this pathetic? Or sad? Or funny? For how long am I going to continue to stand here? Are people staring at me, wondering if I may be nuts?

Maybe. And for anyone who may have given sidelong looks to the odd lady staring at the grapefruits, or oranges or strawberries, let her be. She has much to process.

Yes, it comes in waves, and at odd times and least-expected places. For the most part, you are excited for the kid. Up until the moment when you need to put the grapefruit away.