I just... I don't know what to do with myself anymore. David, you know, my youngest, he left last week. Vienna. For some sort of art history thing, he was so excited, talking about the Hapsburgs and whatever. And I was excited for him, truly, I mean that's the point, isn't it? To launch them. To make them independent, self-sufficient, capable individuals. That's what we, what I, always strived for. Discipline. Structure. Like in the service, you train them up, drill them until it's second nature, then you send them out. But there's no redeployment for me, no new assignment. Just… quiet. It's just so quiet now. The house, I mean. It echoes. I keep finding myself in his room, just sort of standing there, looking at the empty shelves where his ridiculous anime figures used to be. Not even a dust bunny, he cleaned it meticulously, which, you know, good for him. But I keep thinking I'll hear his footsteps on the stairs, or the microwave beeping from his late-night snack raids. His little rituals, I guess. His… patterns. And now it’s just me and the old dog, who mostly just snores. I mean, I don't even know what my purpose is now. For so long it was… it was this. This deployment, this operation. Raising them. Being here. I was the quartermaster, the supply chain, the moral support, the drill sergeant when needed. The constant. And now the mission's complete, but I'm still here, still standing watch, but there’s nothing to watch over. It’s a kind of disequilibrium. Like being grounded after a long tour, but without the relief, just the… the quiet hum of nothing. I sort of thought I'd feel… lighter. More free, maybe. To finally pursue, I don't know, my own… hobbies. My own… interests. Whatever those are now. I used to paint, before the kids, before the demands. Watercolors. And I keep looking at my old easel, still tucked away in the attic, covered in a dusty sheet. But I just don't have the… the impetus. The drive. Like the engine's sputtering. It’s not depression, not clinical, I don't think. More like… like an anhedonia, a profound lack of motivation. A sudden, unexpected obsolescence. I mean, my partner, they're still working, still out there in the world, doing… things. Important things. And I’m just… here. Sorting through old photos, remembering dinner schedules and school runs and scraped knees. All the things I was so good at. And now I’m just… a relic. A monument to a completed objective. And I don’t know what comes next.