When I have days with seemingly endless hours
to fill, remember the days when I thought I had half an hour to myself,
poured myself a coffee, grabbed the weekend paper (now 3 days old) and
plopped myself in a comfy chair; as I lifted the coffee to my lips
remember the voice of a teenager saying "Mum, I'm really sorry, but I
forgot about the Young Business Entrepeneurs meeting! I have to be at
the Plaza in 5 minutes!"
When I feel sad about the small amount of use my refrigerator is put to, I must remember the hours of holiday time I spent cleaning the fridge from top to bottom. Oh, how I scrubbed at all those mysterious sticky substances. I should remember how awkward it was to take all the door shelves off so I could take every last shelf and the vegie crisper out to get at those sticky substances. I should remember how I felt a little glow of pride the next time I opened the the refrigerator and basked in its sparklingness. I should also remember that when I went to repeat that experience I spied red sticky stuff trickling down from the very top shelf to the very bottom and pooled underneath that hard to get out vegie crisper drawer. I hope I remember the red sticky substance and enjoy the emptiness of my empty nest fridge.
When the silence is echoing through my house and I feel it is too quiet, I hope I remember the days when both my living areas were overrun with noisy teenagers, forcing me to retreat to my room so I could hear myself think. I should also remember those times when the nightly news bulletin was about to inform me of something I really wanted to know and my teens burst into the room relegating all the newsreaders words to mime.
When it hardly seems worth running the washing machine for more than 1 load each week I should remember the days of endless washing and pegging out, bringing in and folding, only to have my teenage daughter demand to know why her favourite jeans have not been washed when they hadn't even made it to the laundry.
When my house feels souless I should remember the years when I couldn't walk in any family space without tripping over a pair or three of shoes baring their souls to my cranky gaze.
I could go on, however, I should probably also pause to remember the years I spent making their teenage years as enriched as I could so they could fly the nest with confidence, and I should feel satisfied that they have.
I hope I get to feel the satisfaction of the last paragraph.