Life Goes On

Steve and I are empty nesters again.

Pat and Rachel had been living in our home since July, but they have taken the leap of faith and bought a place in the city.  It is in the general vicinity of Wicker Park, convenient to Rachel's school and Pat's job at the Blackhawks.   I am so proud that they are "on their way" to creating a root system that will sustain and nurture their life together.
The kids drove home in July - a cross country adventure on Route 66, to ceremoniously link their California life to their new life.  They had tumbleweed plans, to rotate between the homes and apartments and in-laws.  I offered our basement as a place to center themselves: it has a bathroom, private entrance, little fridge and dishwasher, and wireless internet.  It is NOT one of those new, designer basements.  But they could be independent there.  It was awkward to offer the basement-  they would be welcome to stay in Pat's old room- or Mike's or Matt's.   I just wanted them to be able to be all alone, out of earshot, able to come and go without rousing the dogs.  To my joy, they said they would make this a part of their adventure.

I spent June trying to de-basement the basement.  We bought a bed that they could take with them when they moved.  I cleaned, de-junked, and tried to make the place seem like a college apartment.  I put dishes and silverware in the kitchenette, bought rolling racks for the clothes.  Truth told, when I finished, it was still a basement- just a basement with a bed.  Soon enough, they were in Chicago, celebrating July 4th and settling in.  They envisioned late nights in the hot tub, trips to Michigan, and a relaxed house hunting process.  Reality intruded:  Rachel's grandmother fell ill, and Rachel left town to be with her.  Sadly, a funeral followed.  Pat was working at least 80 hours a week, often in split shifts, but he took his laptop obligations on the road to pay respects to his new family.  Without missing a beat,  Rachel returned and started training for her job.  There was to be no extended holiday, but the spirit of adventure was alive and well.  The subterranean  abode was used only for sleep, and our lives intertwined. The basement door was never  used.   I loved the activity and human contact.  There was, however,  precious little time for home hunting, and the places they saw discouraged them in pricing or quality.  Pat changed jobs in September, and another set of routines and obligations emerged. Rachel had been gracious and uncomplaining about sharing Pat with another woman- albeit his mom- but it was time to re-center their lives.  With General Steve at the helm, the kids blitzed Chicago, found a few good options, and decided to make an offer.  David Hochberg stepped in and guided them to financing and closing.  On October 24th, the kids were reunited with their stored pods, our basement was emptied of all signs of life, and the new era of Pat and Rachel began.

I made coffee  and bought coffee cake for the movers, and watched Pat and Rachel's lives being transplanted.  No one paused for food or drink.  Then I was alone with Steve in my house.  Sad.  Inconsolable.  I think I both scared Steve and hurt his feelings.  I was scared myself at the stirred up ache of letting go...after all, Pat had been in California for 5 years.  Yet my empty basement conjured up the same feeling that Pat' created when he headed West in Steve's old Jeep, jobless and without a place to live.  Certain moments announce that your job is done.  The trick is to celebrate a job well done than to note the diminution of your influence.  Life goes on.

I still have trouble going to the basement, which appears as if they were never here.  I have channelled my angst into cleaning my cupboards and organizing my 20 years of clipped and (largely) unused recipes.  I moved some furniture around.  My industry is fading as my heart mends, but I would be lying if I said I didn't miss having the two of them to share life with.  On the other hand, I know that it was time for them to be an autonomous couple. Steve and I have returned to a quieter and more co-dependent life.  Steve likes to be King of his world, and he can cope with the absence of Prince Pat.  He misses Rachel, - I think it tickled him to have girl energy around.  He is more pragmatic than I , and celebrates his kids' progress as a job completed.  He is a wise man, and I am learning from him.

The kids are nesting in a lovely condo, settling in gradually.  I saw it before they closed, and I loved it.  I have not been to see their new life:  I believe that I should go again after they have made it their own.  I will never drop in.  That is a good rule for moms and moms in law. Rachel needs to rule this roost, and I know she will do it with style and grace.

 They are coming into their first holiday in their own home, with no flights from LA and sad returns.  They have bought winter coats, boots and are ready for Christmas in the City.  They will drag a tree up 3 stories, decorate it and stand in its glow.  They will grumble 3 weeks later as every needle falls off during the disposal.  Pat will make his argument for a fake tree, Rachel will ignore him.  They will have a year to settle to the dispute-or a lifetime.  They will navigate the present, plan the future, and reorganize when their dreams make a U turn.  A magical adventure is unfolding, and I am glad to have been a tiny part of it.