A Snow Day And An Empty Nest

Supergirl II, walking in the rain

Supergirl I (the dark-eyed one) and her Beloved at Mount Holyoke last Halloween.

Overnight and into this morning, we got about two inches of wet, slippery rain and snow, causing school closings all over the county. In recent days, I've tried to graciously accept many fine people's optimism that "it's feeling like spring today" but I knew it wasn't. No robins. I have not seen or heard of a single robin sighting. That, my friends, is the true harbinger of spring around these parts. At least for me. I'm with the robins; we always know for sure.

So here I am sitting at my desk, looking out over the river at a time when I am typically taking school lunch count. I'm taking count instead of how many squirrels miss the feeder from the nearby tree limbs because of the wet ice. Hey, it qualifies as a meal count. And regardless of how much I want spring, I love a good snow day!

Life is different, certainly, without girls in the house. It feels especially poignant on a snow day, when weather triumphs over the evils of school. They would have been home with me today; probably still sleeping. But here.

When I moved in with W.P. four years ago, one of his daughters was attending college in Boston, one was back and forth between the house and her dormroom and both of my daughters were in high school and lived partly with us and partly with their dad. Now my oldest, Supergirl I, is a junior at Mount Holyoke College and Supergirl II is a freshman at Boston University. W.P.'s oldest graduated with a masters and is living and working in San Francisco and the younger daughter is in graduate school and engaged to be married. Young adulthood is a period of such rapid growth.

The house is empty. Too empty. Oh, no. Not another empty nest post in the blogosphere! Yes and no. I'm thrilled for them. They are exceptional young women. I believe they're gonna do it and do it their way. They already are. And...I miss them. I chat daily with both my Supergirls. Intrestingly,they call me more often than I call them. There's a reluctance on my part to seem overbearing. They're young women after all, making a lot of their own decisions.

Now I've done some things in my life that may not exactly qualify me for Mother of The Year but they were in the realm of my personal relationships and my divorce from their father. I've tried to be a good role model, to set boundaries and to give to them the only things I feel I do well to a fault - I gave them lots of love. I communicated with them. For better or for worse, they know where I stand. I'm not the kind of mother whose kids are her pals. I'm a mom. Though I believe that as my relationship with my daughters evolves, the friendship piece does seem to come into focus more. The mother piece, I believe to be something they will always need. It's the constant. It's the Northern Star.