Teacher
My son is a teacher, a university professor. I find this amazing because, in spite of my father and sister being teachers, I was not born with that ability. My efforts to teach my children piano met with disaster: crying, refusing to do as I instructed, and finally quitting after a half dozen lessons. Though I play the piano well, it does not translate to being a good piano teacher. When I understand or do things intuitively, I can’t conceive of other people not getting it, so I have no idea how to teach them. I repeat: I am not a teacher. Never have been. Never will be. My son, Chris, however, has been teaching me all his life. I first glimpsed his ability when he was only seven. His little sister was in hysterics one afternoon because I couldn’t...
Moving
My son has moved out. He’s twenty-nine, so it was time for him to go. Actually, though, he moved away years ago. To an out-of-state college for four years, then two years teaching school and getting a masters degree in yet another state. He came back home, but only for a couple months until he got married. Then he and his bride lived in a neighboring city while he continued his education. He has now earned that PhD and moved, along with his wife and five-month-old son, to a different state, where he’ll get to be the university professor. While they were loading their belongings onto a very large Hertz rental, we realized there was enough space to hold all of Chris’ boxes we had stored at our house. So the boxes left, as well. Books, artwork,...
Empty Nest
There was a time when I thought the term, empty nest, referred to a one-time occurrence, typically when children left the security of their parents’ home to move to a college dormitory. I have learned this is not so; the sense of loss can be felt many times by loving parents. I realize now that I first experienced it when my children moved from our constant companionship to go to preschool. Although I welcomed a few hours to myself, I couldn’t get them out of my mind, wondering if they were making friends and having a good time, worrying that they missed me. I eagerly picked them up each day, ready to resume our familiar routines, happy that they were gone only three hours each day. I felt the loss again when they started kindergarten. There was...
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