Last time the census came to town, we had a full house. This time around, I perch up at the kitchen bench in my PJs, mug of peppermint tea at my elbow, the empty house rattling around me, the sad-eyed dog at my feet.
‘It’s just you and me girl,’ I say to her, as she gazes up at me mournfully, wondering where they have all gone. My recently acquired status as empty nester hits me. It’s now official; it’s on the census. That long, crazy, exhausting and wonderful era in the Macrae household is over.
I’m exaggerating. I’m not really on my own. My husband is still in residence, but he is away about half the time. Our youngest still lives here, but she is often out and about, and on census night happens to be staying at the home of one of her mates.
Our oldest left several years ago, leaving us with three kids. But then our older son’s partner moved in, and we were back to four live-in kids. Then in six months, starting about this time last year, three of them moved out. And not just out, say, to Moonee Ponds, or Collingwood, or even New South Wales, but to the UK.
To say it’s different at our place these days would be an understatement. There’s not as much washing, there’s not as much cleaning. It hardly seems worth going to the supermarket. ‘We’re a shadow of our former selves,’ says my husband as he wheels the bin out, one pathetic bag of rubbish skulking in the bottom.
If all this sounds a bit morose and miserable, it’s not. Maybe the novelty just hasn’t worn off yet, but so far, I’m quite delighted with this new state of affairs. I keep wondering when I will start to feel my life no longer has purpose, but to date there hasn’t been a hint of it.
Night after night I come home to an empty house and it is so restful. I make myself a slow cup of tea, walk the dog, start thinking about dinner when I’m good and ready. There’s no rush. There’s no one else to consider. I can be as selfish as I please.
Mostly, I loved my 25 years at the hub of a big, bustling household. I enjoyed my dozen years as a full-time, stay-at-home mum. When the time came to do more study and then get back into the workforce, that was great too, mad juggling act and all as it was.
I was besotted with the kids when they were tiny but, quite frankly, I enjoyed them more when they grew up a bit. These days, there are few people whose company I enjoy more. I’d love it if they all settled back within a kilometre radius of me eventually, but I have no desire for them all to move back in.
They are a long way away (the closest is in Beechworth) but they are all happy, doing what they want to do, and are as safe as a human can be in this world. They keep in touch, which, with skype and chat lines and email, is a darn sight easier than it use to be.
I am more than ready for this new stage of life. I now have my own writing room. I have my own little corner for prayer and meditation. There is so much more time and head space for me to be still, read, write, pray, dream. There is a chance for uninterrupted time with my husband when he’s around
As for our youngest, she misses her siblings terribly, and I feel for her. But the upside of her still being around is that now we are friends in a way we never had a chance to be before. Some days, when we have both been at work and we get home and divvie up the chores, it feels almost as though we are a pair of house mates.
Maybe they’ll start moving back in again. I know this happens with today’s boomerang kids. It’ll be different though. They will have been away and run their own lives. Whether they come back or not, though, for now I am quietly relishing this new stage of my life. For one thing, it’s a damn sight quicker filling out the census form.