Second-time empty nester

After a stint in Europe, my son Jesse moved in with us for a couple of months. Most of the time, Spencer was in Maine, so it was just the two of us.

Having him as a roommate required adjusting shower schedules, different shopping habits, brewing more coffee each morning, and watching more ESPN. He slept on the fold-out and stowed his worldly goods next to the recliner. Not a very happy living situation for a 36-year-old.

It was stressful for him and for me, but it was also a gift to spend time with him. We haven't done much of that in recent years. We looked up stuff on the internet, went hiking in New Hampshire, talked on the fire escape, cooked dinner.

He's moving out this weekend, sharing a place with his old roommates. It will be great to have things "back to normal" in the apartment, and great for him to be able to do his own thing without his mom in the mix.

But a gentle sadness wells up inside me. I'll be away this weekend, and when I get home Monday, he and all his stuff will be gone.

I skipped the empty nest syndrome when he left at 18 because his father was very ill, and my mind was otherwise occupied.

To my surprise, I'm having it now.