I Am Happy, Really

Well, there you have it. Six sons and thirty seven years later, testosterone no longer bounces off the walls of this humble Florida address, though it will probably be quite some time before its residue  clears. There is evidence aplenty to prove this has been ground stomped by boys; baby boys, little boys, medium sized boys, big boys, boys with friends who are boys, and boys with girlfriends who enticed them to new addresses. 

Leaving for work this morning the Sable drove easily forward out the crescent driveway. There was no little red Suby to prevent it. Mimi, the cute little Miata that the one daughter drives, was standing guard at her usual post but her sides were not flanked by any of the vintage cars, race cars, VW's, pick-up trucks, project cars, boats or trailers that once occupied the spaces. She looked so little, so alone in that great big driveway by herself. 

In the back yard a bulging PVC shed with corners that had to be screwed together with "L" brackets for all it has contained, will once again become the place for tools, lawn equipment and household fix it materials. Of course the lawn mower's gas can will no longer magically fill, but I will know right where to find a hammer when I need it for those household repairs on my honey do list, that only I will see. Weight benches, bikes, and tires will no longer stow on the concrete slab back there either, which means perhaps patio furniture will. Perhaps it will become a spot where coffee is enjoyed, or breakfast, or a bit of reading at that near future furnished patio. 

If I could devote the time to it I would have the place ship shape in a month, but that is wishful and not realistic. It will likely be years before all that's been left behind of these boys and these years is sifted through and weeded out. 

That's okay. 

I am happy, really.

Already things are being pinked and shoe shelves planned. For the first time pitifully non-functional closets will cease to frustrate. Space will be allotted to various art and crafting stations. Materials will be conveniently accessible instead of the usual move this to get to that as things fall out and down in a domino effect, disrupting the precarious attempt at organization and order. Curtains will be drawn back welcoming the sun to splash on walls through windows delightfully bare. Bare enough to peer into the now still rooms.

All of life is a boohoo or a woohoo, maybe even both at the same time, like now. 

I am happy, really.

I'm happy for my sons who have made a way to pursue and achieve their own dreams and visions for lives well lived. I am happy for my daughter and I to be able to spend girl time together for as long as we have until that too changes. 

Some things have to be left behind, in order to move onward and upward. There is no time for stagnancy. After thirty seven years of fluffing, flurrying and flitting about the nest, I know this well. Now invites the time to primp and preen and prissy the nest in preparation for estrogen domination. I look forward to the change, anticipating a new fullness of life, deepening the bond with daughter. 

The floors will stay clean, and when they have been too clean for too long, I'll send out a ca-caw ca-caw. They will recognize it and fly back to the nest of their beginning, and for a while, all will be as it was, only bigger and better. They'll bring with them their Mrs's and the fledglings. Downy feathers will drift and dive on wing rustled air. Boy-strous chatter will fill up the house and spill out into the yard. The bobble-headed lady birds will smile with a fresh wonder at the comical entertainment until the sun fades, plans are discussed for next time, and well wishes and hugs are distributed. 

When the last one goes, again, I'll lock the doors, tidy up a bit, have a bath, and consider with deepest gratitude all the ways I am the wealthiest person I know. On my slipper footed way to the fridge for a cup of ice to munch while I relax in my easy chair, I'll marvel at how one brief family gathering can so dirty the floors. Drips from sippy cups, stepped on bits of lunch, grass and sand testify to the day's full nest. Tomorrow I'll mop, I will think to myself, mop like I have thousands of times before, only there will be so much more to smile about. 

Peering through the bare window one might not see it, but I do. I see all that's been left behind. 

I guess all that testosterone will forever bounce off the walls of my heart.

I am happy, really.