You know sometimes you just sit there, like, really late, and everyone else is asleep and the house is SO quiet it practically hums and you just… you start thinking, and it’s not even a good thinking, it’s just thoughts kinda swirling around and around, and then you realize you’ve been doing it for like an hour and it’s way too late for anyone to be awake but you. And you get this feeling, like you’re watching yourself from somewhere else, just sitting there, and it’s weird. Does that make sense? Like you’re seeing the whole thing from above, almost. And then you get to wondering, like, what’s even the point anymore. Not in a bad way, not really, but in a… an observational way, if that makes sense. Like you’ve spent so many years doing one thing, and it was important, obviously, and it was hard work, oh my goodness the hard work, but you just did it because that’s what you did, you know? Like it was your job description, only it wasn't a job you could quit or get a raise for or even a good performance review because who gives you a review for that? And then suddenly, it’s just… gone. It was just last month, I remember, when Sarah called, and she was like, "Mom, I’m just so settled now, and David’s doing great, and we finally bought that little house, you know the one near the park," and she just sounded so happy, really genuinely happy, and that’s what you want, right? You want them to be happy. And then Mark, he emailed a few days later, just a quick one, something about his new project, and how he’s really focusing on his career and "no need to worry, Mom, I’m all good." And you read it and you think, "Okay, good. They’re good." And you feel this… a release? But then what? Because for so many years, it was like, morning rush, and making sure lunches were packed just right, and then after school, it was homework and practices and making sure dinner was on the table and everyone was fed and clean and then bed stories and all that. And even when they got older, it wasn’t just gone, it was still there, different things, but still you were involved, you were needed. The phone calls, the advice, the emergency whatever-it-was. That was… that was *you*. And you were good at it, I think. You really tried your best, you know? And now… now the house is always tidy, almost too tidy sometimes, and the fridge isn’t overflowing with all their favorite snacks and you don’t have to plan meals around five different schedules anymore, and you can just… sit. And that’s supposed to be good, right? Like, "Oh, finally, you can relax!" But you don’t really relax. You just sit there, and you see the dust motes dancing in the sun, and you wonder if you should get up and wipe them away, but what’s the point really? No one’s coming home to mess it up right after you clean it. I tried to tell my sister about it, just a little bit, on the phone, and I said, "You know, it’s just… quiet now," and she just laughed, like a really loud, hearty laugh, and she said, "Oh, aren't you LUCKY! I wish I had that kind of quiet!" And she means well, she really does, but it’s not the same. It’s not a good quiet, not really. It’s an empty quiet, and you don't want to explain that to someone because then you sound like you’re complaining, and you're not, not really. You just… you’re trying to understand. And then you start to think, like, what if that was all of it? What if that was your big project, your big career, your big performance review, and you passed, you did it, you got the gold star, but now there’s nothing else on the agenda? Like the whole office closed down and they just forgot to tell you to go home? It feels a little bit like that. Like you’re still sitting at your desk, but everyone else has gone to the next meeting, or the next promotion, or whatever it is they go to. And you try to fill the time, you really do. I started that knitting project, the one with the really complicated pattern, and I joined that book club, and I tried taking a pottery class but my hands just aren't very good with clay, and it’s fine, it’s all fine, but it’s not… it’s not the same. It’s not that feeling of being absolutely essential, of being the glue that holds everything together. That’s a really intense feeling, and sometimes it’s too much, but sometimes… sometimes you miss it, you know? So you just sit there, late at night, and you look at your reflection in the dark window, and you see this person, and you think, "Okay, that’s me. That’s who I am now." And you don’t really know what to do with that information, or what to do with *her*. Is she supposed to do something else now? Is there another job application to fill out? Another role to play? Because nobody sends you a memo about what comes next, and that’s the part that really gets you, the not knowing. And it’s not like you can ask anyone, because everyone else seems to just… know. Or they pretend to. And you don’t want to be the one who doesn't.