I want to be alone.

Shhh: don't say it too loudly. In fact, just whisper. Since Sunday afternoon, we've been (quiet, please) an empty nest. 

Amigo is attending a boarding school for the blind. 

La Petite is visiting her boyfriend. 

Chuck and I are (did you hear us?) alone.

We're cooking for two - just us two. We drive the sedan because we don't need the minivan's extra space or extra seats. We run errands together - alone. Almost. 

Last night we went to the pet store and stocked up on litter and hay. The shop was out of our favorite litter, so we headed to the King of Stores: Fleet Farm. We found a 20 lb. bag of our favorite corn-cob litter and a new pan for the big bunny's cage. I carried the lightweight pan and Chuck took the big bag of litter over his shoulder, insisting in his I'm A Man Pushing Fifty and I'm Still Awesome way that he didn't need a cart.  

Then his cell phone rang. 

Down went the huge bag of litter. Out of the pocket came the phone. It was Amigo. On and on they chatted - the teen in his dorm after sports practice, the Dad in the aisle at Fleet Farm.

And that's how I ended up in the middle of a huge farm supply store, taking a picture of Chuck sitting on a display of 50 lb. blocks of salt, with the equine trace minerals behind him. 

 

 

It's all part of empty nesting. I think. Maybe.