Dawn and I have been empty nesters for a whole two weeks now, but it feels closer to forever since all of us were occupying the same space in life. I’ve been told “it’ll get better” by parents that have been there, but like the well-meaning people that tell you “you’re going to miss it” when you’re young family has you tattered around the edges, it’s of little comfort.

Maybe I don’t want it to get better. Maybe I hope that I will always miss it. Maybe I hope that tears will always well up a bit when reminders of that stretch of time present themselves. There are reminders everywhere, and they present themselves often, but that doesn’t mean my cheeks are doomed to perpetual tracks of mascara.

The emotional response to the reminders littered about is varied. Pride, joy, delight, a smirk, a smile, and yes, a tear on occasion. I don’t know if this will always be the case. If I’ve learned anything raising two kids, is that there is a lot I didn’t, and still don’t know. I suppose life would be a bit boring if we did know it all. We’d all want to be politicians.

If we knew exactly what would bring us meaning, would it be as meaningful? I think we can mindfully pursue it, but it’ll grab ahold of us on its own accord. I often think I know what I need, but more and more, I realize that I am often mistaken. So it goes.

That’s sort of the overarching theme of parenthood…often mistaken. Often mistaken, but generally, always well meaning. We’re only human (most of us).

Speaking of humans, it seems that each of the changes brought about over the years, from the day they were born to the day they ditched us in pursuit of adulthood (or at least freedom from the oppression of the adults in their “hood”), have made me a better human.

Not better than anyone else, but better than I was. Even if that “better” is not all that great, it’s still better, and better is good…or at least better.

I ask the college students in my classroom to have a bit of compassion for the oppressive tyrants they’ve left behind. To go easy on those rudderless helicopters that are spinning around a warehouse full of plastic trophies, photographs, dusty Lincoln Logs, and mounds of Disney VHS tapes. I assume their not listening, the wounds from their hard fought fight for freedom are still too fresh. They’re not listening now, but perhaps they’ll hear me later.

Yes, we miss the kids. We miss them, and mope around a bit from time to time, but we knew this was part of the deal. Well, we knew of it, now we know about it. The nest isn’t completely empty. We’re still here, and we look forward to the kids stopping by from time to time to fill us in on all the goings-on in their lives.

Just be sure to knock first. Feathers are optional in an empty nest.