Below the Surface: Visions from the (Almost) Empty Nest

I tend to underestimate my kids, just a little. Do other parents do that? I know I’ve raised clever and capable people, but still it seems like they’re always a few steps ahead of me. Last week, for example, my 17-year-old daughter came home from a three-week-long service trip to Thailand. I can’t believe I’m saying that. Don’t get me wrong—I wanted nothing more for her than to go—but I still didn’t imagine it would actually happen.

One of the stories she’s heard, as she says, “OVER and OVER (eye roll)” is about my trip across Europe with a Eurail pass, my Birks and a backpack, and no plan. On my European adventure, the small-town seed of my teenaged identity bloomed into something bigger. My trip marked the start of my parents’ awakening, too. I remember feeling so alive as I checked in for my flight, pulled my passport out of my bag and spoke to the lady behind the counter. When I went back to say goodbye to my mom, she said, “How did you know how to do THAT?” 

Mature as she can sometimes be, my daughter would rather pull off her fingernails than make a phone call or ask a customer service person a question. Also, she worries SO MUCH about what other people think of her. So you’ll understand when I tell you: I didn’t think she’d go. Even as we left for the airport at 3 a.m., I imagined her asking me to turn the car around. I also indulged my worst case scenario fears—that she would meet her Prince Charming there and never come back, or that the plane would… knock on wood—well, if you’re a parent, too (even if you aren’t) I think you see where I’m going with this. 

Truly, my kids know how to do things I’ve never seen them do. I guess, on some level, they’ve been paying attention, even when I thought they were on their phones. My oldest has long done things I don’t understand, like umpiring baseball games and doing math in his head. But get this: He got an internship, all on his own. That must have involved a resume and cover letter, right? How did he know what to say?

He and his friends also found a house to rent, with no help from me. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I tried. I sent links from Zillow with questions like, “Is this the kind of kitchen that will work for you guys?” but I didn’t get much response. He must have been studying at the library. That’s where he always seems to be when I text him. Every time I read his response, a vision of him flashes through my mind. For some weird reason, in the vision, he is in somebody else’s dorm room, drinking beer out of a red cup and playing Fortnite. If we actually talked to each other on the phone, I imagine there would be some background noise. I’m not totally in the dark, here—right? He probably IS at the library, sometimes.

So, when my baby decided to fly, without me, to the other side of the planet, I had some hesitations. What if she got bitten by mosquitos? What if she lost her passport? What if there was political unrest? What if she brought a sweater that wasn’t warm enough or forgot extra underwear? What if she felt anxious and couldn’t sleep? What if no one was there to rub lotion on her feet? And finally, the biggie… what if she REALLY liked being away from me more than she liked being with me? 

When she learns to talk to people and overcomes her insecurites, which, let’s face it, is inevitable—what will she need me for? I know this isn’t a question that needs an answer. I am still close to my own mom, and I’m almost fifty. Still, it’s amazing how often it occurs to me these days.

When it does, I remind myself that I have been underestimating my kids all along. I can’t help it, I am cursed. I see what’s below the surface. It’s like there’s another layer under every thing they do and say—there’s an image of a sleeping baby, a ranting toddler, a hilarious kid dressed as a superhero.

So, my vision, like yours, is clouded by history. In less than six months, my clever, quiet, worldly girl will move out. My husband and I will… well, I don’t really know what we’ll do. I guess we’ll figure out, little by little, what we know how to do on our own.