I just dropped my youngest off at college, and it’s like... quiet now. REALLY quiet. My husband works a lot, always has, and honestly, he’s never been much of a conversationalist, you know? Not in the way I mean. He’s there, he's a good guy, but for the last twenty-something years, my days have been a constant hum of kids – carpools, school projects, what’s for dinner, who needs help with what, the whole bit. And now it’s just... nothing. The dog looks at me like he’s bored, too, which is just adding insult to injury. I used to see so many people every day, even if it was just quick hellos at the grocery store or the school pick-up line. Now, I can go hours without saying a single word out loud. And I find myself just standing in the middle of the kitchen, like, what do I DO now? My whole identity, my whole rhythm, it was built around them. And it’s not just the quiet, it’s the weird way people look at you, or *don't* look at you. I’m 52, you know? And it’s like, overnight, I became invisible. Like I’m not even a person anymore, just... a ghost of the person who used to be busy. I catch my reflection sometimes, and I barely recognize the woman looking back. My body feels different, everything's shifting in ways I didn't ask for, and I feel like I'm wearing someone else's skin. I was always the mom, the one everyone came to for things. Now I go to the store and the younger cashiers barely make eye contact. It’s a strange kind of loneliness, like being surrounded by people but utterly alone in your own head. I used to complain about the constant demands, the noise, the sheer chaos of it all. And I meant it sometimes, god knows I did. But there was a kind of purpose in it, you know? A reason to get up, to *do* things. Now it’s just me, and this big, empty house, and the clock ticking by. And I feel like I should be doing something profound, or starting a new hobby, or something, but honestly, I mostly just wander from room to room, picking up imaginary dust. I feel unmoored, like a boat that just lost its anchor, and I’m just drifting. And I don’t even know where I’m supposed to drift *to*. This is a lot, I know, but I just needed to say it out loud... or, well, type it.