I miss them. It’s been… what, three weeks? Feels like three years. The house is SO quiet. Too quiet. I used to grumble about the noise, the endless coming and going, shoes by the door, crumbs on the counter even after I just wiped it. Always someone needing a ride, a snack, a hug. Now… nothing. Just the hum of the fridge. I keep walking into their rooms, like they’ll just be there, playing video games, laughing. But it’s empty. Just the ghosts of them, I guess. My husband… he’s here. Physically. But it’s like living with a stranger again. We spent so many years focused on the kids, then the grandkids, you know? Dinners were a flurry of stories, arguments, who got the last piece of pie. Now we eat in silence. Or we try to make small talk about the weather, the news. It’s… forced. I look at him across the table and I don't even know what to say. Who are we without all that noise? Without them needing us every second of every day? I just feel… useless. I wake up before dawn. No breakfast to make, no school bus to watch for, no endless laundry from messy little humans. My purpose, my REASON for getting up… it just packed up and drove away with them to that big university. I just lie there, staring at the ceiling, wondering what the hell I’m supposed to do now. This is NOT what I thought retirement would be. This isn't freedom. It’s just… emptiness. And I’m so damn lonely.