Now the nest really seems empty

Everybody talks about it -- as have I, previously in this blog -- about what it is like when the last of your children goes off to college.
I was too lazy to do the research, plus I have no great love for birds, so I won't delve here into why it's been referred to as the empty nest syndrome, rather, than say, empty cave. But when it's just you and your spouse left at home, it is a big change -- especially when you've had at least one kid at home for 26 years.
This happened to us last August, when daughter Megan went off to William & Mary. That made two in college -- son Dan had transferred to nearby George Mason University but was living in an off-campus apartment -- and the other two, Dave and Katie, have been gone for a long time now.
It wasn't till this past week of ridiculous, historic snow in the Northern Virginia-Washington, D.C. area that the empty nest thing really hit home for me.
We've been enjoying our time together, going on trips to Las Vegas and the Grand Canyon, taking last-minute day-cations to historic sites and wineries -- and just being the two of us. I have no doubt that will contineu to be true.
But suddenly having no kid at home to help shovel the snow, or to huddle with when the power went out, or to jump in and play a game of Monopoly to pass the time, I was struck as not before what it's like to be kid-less.
Mary and I did just fine -- with wine and cheese and a candlelight game of Scrabble while the power (and heat) were off Saturday for about five hours. In a way, it was even kind of romantic.
But it seemed so strange to be facing this bizarre winter tsunami without any of our kids there to experience it with us.
And it was no fun looking at those huge piles of snow and knowing it was all on us to deal with it.
We did -- Mary is a world-class shoveler and I'm not bad either -- but I have to admit I missed the help, and the kidding back and forth -- that used to be part of the storm dig-out process.
And I realized that that's they way it's always going to be from here on.
I know, I know. I'm a little slow and should have figured this all out before now.
But I didn't. Now I have.
I'm not sure I'm glad about that.
Later.