A Taste Of What Is Next

October 14, 2025

The house is quiet this week.

Not heavy quiet, just still.

Soft. Spacious.

My son is away,

first in Washington, D.C., then New York City,

living out adventures that belong entirely to him.

And for the first time in what feels like forever,

the space I once filled with the rhythm of family is mine.

There’s no thud of shoes by the door, no late-night laughter,

no teenagers making TikTok cooking show videos in the kitchen.

Just me.

The scamper of puppies who never let the quiet last too long,

and the gentle demands of cats who still expect to be obeyed.

At first, the silence felt unfamiliar.

But it’s softened around me.

I’ve been nesting—not for anyone else, but for me.

Cleaning. Rearranging. Letting go of what we’ve outgrown.

Making space for what’s next.

In small, almost tender ways,

I’m learning what an empty nest might feel like—

not as a loss, but as a beginning.

A shift from constant caretaking

to quiet emerging.

The quiet isn’t lonely.

It’s restorative.

It’s the sound of life shifting,

of a mother becoming a woman again,

of a home remade to reflect who I am now.

Maybe this is how the next chapter begins—

not with fanfare or noise,

but with a quiet house

and the deep, steady knowing

that what’s coming is right.

Still, I can’t wait for my son to come home.

This is, after all, just a test run.