An empty nest

I knew this day was coming. I was dreading it. I feel a sense of sadness mingled with pride and admiration.

My baby birds are gone.

Yesterday morning two of them were toddling on the edge of the nest. I could see them contemplating if this was the day to spread their wings. Apparently their third sibling had an independent streak because he or she was already gone. Clint said they would be leaving that day. I secretly hoped they would stay – just a few more days. I’d so enjoyed our time together, peering through the windows to catch a glimpse of their tiny heads and hungry beaks.

By the afternoon, they had ventured from the nest and were perched amid the Confederate Jasmine on the front porch. You had to look hard to even see them. They were probably thinking, “OK, we made it this far. I think we can do it. I think we can fly.” (I thought it was neat how they stuck together, giving each other moral support.)

In the time it took me to go upstairs and put in a load of laundry, they were gone.

I couldn’t help but note the irony: the birds had left the day before Mother’s Day. I wondered if the mother bird was sitting in a tree top watching her babies take flight and feeling proud of the job she had done. She had perfectly fulfilled the role nature had for her as a mother. Would I do the same with my daughter?

Just as my little birds flew away while I was loading laundry, I have no doubt one minute I’ll be loading the washer with tiny socks and bibs and in the next instant washing armloads of clothing dropped on the laundry room floor during a visit home from college.

What matters is what I do in those moments between. The responsibility of parenthood has not been lost on me these last three months. It is an awesome task, one to be cherished, celebrated and feared.

Clint and I often study Katherine, as I’m sure most parents do, and wonder where life will take her. Will she be a doctor, an artist, a politician, a writer, a lawyer, an engineer, a chemist? We’ll do our very best to mold her into the best person we can. In fact,our job isn’t so different from that mother bird’s: to nurture our children, teach them how to fly and then step aside.