An Empty Nest

Maria Hoyle’s daughters have flown the coop, and now she’s facing the dilemma every parent goes through: what now? She shares what she learned in the transition from hands-on parent to empty nester

Empty nest. Such a deceptively simple phrase. All it ever conjured for me was dried twigs, a few gnarly feathers and a couple of fat, smug sparrows. It’s not until you become an Empty Nester yourself, that the full messy complexity of the concept hits home.

Just after my first child was born, I’d take her to Hyde Park in London, where we lived at the time. It was a beautiful summer, and I’d spread a blanket under the trees where she would gaze at the sky and I would stare at her. I was smitten, and wondered at the courage of people whose kids had all grown up. How were those parents doing it, just walking around like that, not being paralysed with grief?

Later, with two small daughters and by now in New Zealand, my feelings were murkier. Sure, I loved them as much, if not more. But thousands of miles from family, often exhausted and lonely, it was hard work. At times, Empty Nest seemed like a never-to-be-fulfilled promise.

CHANGING TIMES

Once we’d settled and my daughters grew, that changed. Their energy and sense of fun was beautiful – even, perhaps especially, in their adolescence. When we weren’t yelling at each other, we’d be laughing like lunatics, or sprawled on the bed reading together, or just watching a movie. In those quiet moments, everyone safe in the nest, it felt like everything was right with the world.

Then my elder daughter left at 18, to study in Wellington. Yes, I was tearful. But it’s only a short flight away, and she was super-excited about her course, so I couldn’t help but be happy too. Also I had my younger daughter at home. Then before you could say ‘heart like a nest with the wind howling through it’, she too, at 19, had flown. Yep, just like that she walked towards a plane bound for South America and was gone.