The whole family was home over the weekend for Easter - the opposite of the empty nest. There was a lot of cooking and eating, (a roast rack of lamb with an herbed crust that was a triumph, if I do say so myself), a disgraceful amount of chocolate (it's amazing that at this stage of our lives, the Easter Bunny can still find our house), and a good deal of lounging and laughing.
This morning it is terribly quiet. My kids are so grown up. The fact that they are independent means that the Weatherman and I have done our job, I suppose. But sometimes I still feel like there's something wrong with the entire American culture - why do we raise them so that the sign of success is that they leave? If I had slept any better I would come up with a metaphor about eggs (with the Easter egg motif) and nests and chicks and Moms that plays with the "empty nest" cliche and comes up with something better.
But I'm tired and foggy and must marshall any creative forces I have for the new ending of the book.