November 3, 2006
“Are you emptynesters?”
I nod, sadly and appropriately, I think. Yes, two months ago my husband, Bob, and I helped Arna, our youngest son, pack up everything he owns and apparently everything we used to own, into the CRV we used to own. Boxes of books, baskets of clothes, bags of shoes, a TV, a microwave, a laptop, more boxes of books, pillows, blankets, sheets, a futon, more boxes of unidentifiable stuff, miscellaneous aspirin, inhalers, nose sprays, old amoxicillin, guitars — both electric and not — game systems, masses of extensions cords, surge protectors, and toiletries to last until the next century. Later we found out he forgot all of his underwear, undershirts and winter clothes. But this momentous day had come.
The car was so full that Arna could barely see out the window. The plastic skull hanging by a bandana on the rear view mirror was almost invisible.
“Be careful,” I admonished as we gave him our last kisses and hugs. And off Arna went out the driveway and onto the streets of Lawrence and the highway to the University of Iowa in Iowa City, Iowa, about five and a half hours away.
“Want to take a walk?” my husband asks, “Since we’re up so early anyway…”
“Sure. We’d better take Arna’s dog. She hasn’t been out yet.” I add.
“If we have to.”
We drag around, finding shoes, shorts, and the dog who emerges from Arna’s room in the basement. We start huffing and puffing along, wishing we hadn't eaten all those chips and salsa for the last ten years.
“I never thought this day would come," I say to Bob conversationally.
“Yeah, me neither. The light at the end of the tunnel.”
“I know what you mean.”
Then Bob says, “I have a great idea.”
I think, Oh no. Do I have to walk all over campus inspecting half-built parking lots and buildings? Or do we have to pick up garbage left from the regular student mess on streets near the KU campus? Or do we need to go to the intermural badminton tournaments or help students carry really heavy stuff into dorms? My husband’s great ideas usually involve lots of work or driving really far on bad roads to see cemeteries.
“Great.”
“You don’t sound very enthusiastic," he says.
“Go ahead. Tell me your great idea.”
“Well, I thought we could give away Arna’s dog (Cassie). Then we could rent her back when Arna comes home for school holidays. It’s perfect, don’t you think?”
“Sure ... NO. I don’t think Arna would go for it.”
“That’s the good part. He’d never know.” Bob smiled sweetly.
I’m afraid I considered it. After all these years of being parents to teenagers, the idea of sneaking, getting by with something, made me interested. I could walk around the house totally naked, I thought, not that I wanted to. Or I could get out my old kid’s record player and play my Beatles, Bob Dylan, and even Allman Brothers really loud for hours. Drink a few margaritas and not worry about leaving stuff out. Sit around and watch Oprah.
The first day passed. That evening the dog barked. I almost reminded Arna that he better take her out. Arna wasn’t there. I didn’t feel like taking her out. Let her bark. I’ll do it later, I thought. Where have I heard that before?
Comments
Anna (anonymous) says...
Oh Leah! That is so funny! I really enjoy your writing.
February 9, 2007 at 4:40 p.m. ( permalink | suggest removal )
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