The house is quiet this morning. The moon is still bright outside, the sun still in hiding. It definitely feels like fall, I love it. Not so many years ago the house would have been filled with the turmoil of getting children dressed for school, the baby fed and a husband off to work. Things have certainly slowed down with the oldest two children now grown and living their own lives. It's something as a parent that is bittersweet. There is nothing sweeter than the sound of little feet running up and down the stairs in pajamas with the feet in them. Nothing more heartwarming than giggles coming from a darkened room where everyone is suppose to be sleeping, and there's nothing more empty feeling then when those sounds have long left your home. The sound of the daily news now runs in the background of my life along with the pitter patter of not little feet but some honkin big paws. I'm not sure a man can fully understand what it's like for a woman to raise her children and set them on their path to freedom. There's a hole in my heart that won't heal because of their absence. I wouldn't bring them back for anything in the world, because I set in my heart from the start that their independance was something I would embrace with joy and I absolutely do; it's not so much for them that I mourn it's but for myself (selfishness I'm sure). My youngest turns 15 this month. From past experience I know what that means. In a flash he'll be gone too. I'll admit that I struggle with my purpose, my goals and my dreams now that all but one has left the nest. So much time, effort, energy invested... now I'm at a loss of where I go from here. I never really dreamed past my children. Never really made plans past the part where they were raised so here I sit in the early morning hours wondering... what's next?
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