Learning to Be Two Again

Our four children had become young adults. Our busy life of running to schools, games and practices, church activities and play dates had wound down. Sitting in front of the TV snuggling with Joe had taken the place of frantic evenings. But without the plethora of responsibilities to coordinate, our conversations dwindled.

One evening after Joe and I arrived home from work, with the kids out, I faced my husband in the middle of our living room, and the stillness of our once lively home struck me. I voiced my anxiety that we might be better together as parents than a couple.

“Joe, do you think we’ll get that empty nest syndrome when the kids leave? So many people we know are divorcing. If they can’t keep their marriages going after years of trying, maybe it could happen to us.”

Joe, standing opposite me in our quiet space, said nothing. But his face burned with angry, wounded feelings, and his body language raged. He stomped upstairs. It was his way of saying, “How can you think that after everything we’ve been through together?”

I got it. I never hear God’s physical voice, but I continue to meditate in His presence and believe in our relationship. Joe and I may not speak much about our relationship, but it is vital in an unexplainable way, even beyond our family.

Alone in the room, I realized our home had become a to-do list instead of a “home.” We were a well-oiled machine working singly in the house: I vacuumed, Joe cut the grass; I did laundry and dishes, he did home repairs.

I decided to make a dinner date with Joe. He didn’t question the reason for it, but he didn’t stand me up either. That was the start of enjoying our empty nest status together.

Today, our three daughters have homes of their own. Our son graduated from high school this year, our thirtieth year of marriage. These almost empty-nest parents woke to the fact that we can still enjoy being a part of fun activities. Only now, we are shuttling ourselves to and from forty-plus hockey practice, eating out, sightseeing and volunteering. It is still a full life, far from an empty nest. 

With This Ring

Here, I talked about having my engagement ring and wedding ring cut off my finger. I hadn’t removed them since my husband put them on me 35 years before. In that post, I gushed about how, even though small and modest, they have great sentimental meaning. 


Only 2 years later I’m now very sentimental about the new engagement ring and enhancer my husband bought me for our 37^th anniversary. I was ashamed to admit that I found myself loving these much less modest rings with deeper emotion than when my husband presented me with the original engagement ring all those years ago. 


I never liked flashy things. Why do I constantly look at my new rings and feel more appreciated by my hubby? There’s no difference in our relationship.


The new rings are of a mature style-one I wouldn’t have chosen if my fiancé had the money in 1981 to afford bigger rings. Is that it? Did I feel juvenile wearing rings a teenager had picked out? Did I feel I deserved better jewelry after years of marriage? I’m a different person now, but that doesn’t have anything to do with jewelry. I shouldn’t need a fancy set of rings to prove to people or myself how much my husband cares for me. 


Before hubby bought these new rings, I had thought about what else that money could go towards: Renting a vacation house for a week of fun with family at the beach; Saving ourselves another monthly bill; Making an improvement on our old, needy house. I thought I’d regret the purchase. I feared guilt would attack me every time I looked at the rings. They’d be a reminder that so much money was spent on me alone, with no one else benefiting. 


Why do I enjoy these rings so much? They clash with my usual casual dress and require maintenance that my smaller rings never did. That means they come with responsibility during a time where I’ve been shedding responsibilities to simplify my life. 


At night, while sitting together watching TV, my hubby takes my hand and kisses it near the rings. He had taken a picture of my hand wearing the rings and showed the picture to people he works with. That’s when it hit me. The rings bring joy to him too. He’s planning to buy a matching ring for himself. And he doesn’t even wear jewelry. With tears of emotion I’m realizing that these seemingly shallow, unnecessary things are physical symbols of the precious life we have; A mature reality that’s beyond young love and bright hopes for our future. They represent materialization of those hopes and love. A reward for a job well done.

Juliette Writers' Group Meeting

"Portraits of writers and photographers (Esquire Russia)" by Pavel Mishkin is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 4.0 

September 17th @ 7:30pm

Barnes & Nobles

1311 Nixon Dr.

Moorestown, NJ 

Topic for discussion: Sub-plots

Join this 20 year strong group of writers in our think tank environment. Networking afterwards.