Now that school has started and the youngest member of the family has gone off to college-land, there is an overwhelming feeling of absence about the home; not the absence of love and affection or peace and tranquility or joy and happiness but the absence of people who, though often quiet to the point of wondering if they still existed, left their mark upon the spiritual atmosphere of the household.
School started before Labor Day, which was weird; but it was nice that the kids were able to come together again at the house over the long weekend before their now-nearly-adult lives reconvened and we were left again in the mostly-empty house, wondering if this is going to be the way life is from now on. Quietly (mostly) empty.
I have a few dreams about that, not so much visions in my head but idle thoughts that sometimes impinge upon my brain, thinking that perhaps it would be fun to jettison the piles of useless flotsam infusing our lives and return to a lifestyle of simplicity and non-materialism (not that we are in the least materialistic, but there is a daunting amount of material in our house) which goes largely un-utilized. Wouldn't it be wonderful to reduce our cosmic footprint to a bare minimum and thereby afford ourselves the opportunity to experience the world in the way God intended - in a flower-festooned Hippie van, rolling down the highway from town to town, singing along with the radio to the old tunes of yesterday and making friends along the way?
Now you're giving me the same look as my wife when I mention the advantages of selling the house and hitting the road. As though a huge leak has sprung from my brain and all common sense has spewed out. Which it has.
But every once in a while (typically once a week) a wanderlust strikes me, and I ponder the joys of getting behind the wheel and driving off into the sunset, just she and I, in our little portable house, seeing the sights and visiting all the relatives I haven't seen in oh so many years.
If it weren't for the fact that we aren't quite to that point yet, it'd be a serious consideration. But we do have kids in school close by, a kid in Germany who is getting close to his wedding day, and another kid for whom the future is a rather fuzzy question mark. And there are so many things in this house that need to be fixed before it is even close to being ready for market.
But lately I've been coming home from work so tired that I have no energy left for those things, and after a quiet dinner, we watch something from Netflix and then sit quietly and listen to classical music while perusing the web or reading (and sometimes I just close my eyes and cat-nap on the couch while Cheryl crochets). And then suddenly it's bedtime and the end of another day.
So when the kids come by, we try to get as noisy as possible. Because we know it won't be long before they're gone again, and silence will reign. Again.
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| Erin Prowls |
I have a few dreams about that, not so much visions in my head but idle thoughts that sometimes impinge upon my brain, thinking that perhaps it would be fun to jettison the piles of useless flotsam infusing our lives and return to a lifestyle of simplicity and non-materialism (not that we are in the least materialistic, but there is a daunting amount of material in our house) which goes largely un-utilized. Wouldn't it be wonderful to reduce our cosmic footprint to a bare minimum and thereby afford ourselves the opportunity to experience the world in the way God intended - in a flower-festooned Hippie van, rolling down the highway from town to town, singing along with the radio to the old tunes of yesterday and making friends along the way?
Now you're giving me the same look as my wife when I mention the advantages of selling the house and hitting the road. As though a huge leak has sprung from my brain and all common sense has spewed out. Which it has.
But every once in a while (typically once a week) a wanderlust strikes me, and I ponder the joys of getting behind the wheel and driving off into the sunset, just she and I, in our little portable house, seeing the sights and visiting all the relatives I haven't seen in oh so many years.
If it weren't for the fact that we aren't quite to that point yet, it'd be a serious consideration. But we do have kids in school close by, a kid in Germany who is getting close to his wedding day, and another kid for whom the future is a rather fuzzy question mark. And there are so many things in this house that need to be fixed before it is even close to being ready for market.
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| Mary Reads a Book for College |
So when the kids come by, we try to get as noisy as possible. Because we know it won't be long before they're gone again, and silence will reign. Again.
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| Adam and Deb Browse and Eat Skittles |
2 comments:
I too, dream of getting rid of things no longer needed and just hitting the road but somehow when I walk through the garage and shop, I realize that is never going to happen but since I do have the wanderlust occasionally I will do a bit of wandering next week when I go to Indiana to see Carolyn (and the rest of relatives in the area. Wish I could get a michigan detour approved but guess that won't happen.
Hope you can learn to enjoy your empty house and just be content.
Love, mom
Brendon and I enjoy looking at DIY camper projects YouTube. There is an amazing variety, from people who take cargo trailers and outfit them like RV's, to people who strip out a van and throw in a cooler, a water jug, a camp stove and a mattress (and maybe a porta potty) and hit the road. You don't have to sell everything to take a fun minimalist road trip!
Actually, our mini-RV is pretty minimalist compared to the Class A, $200,000+ monstrosity that our best friends dream of.
You can have your cake and eat it, too. You're already great at electrical work, carpentry, and car repair. Build a camper and hit the road, and have your kids house sit for you.
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