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Awkward, deafening silence

Do you hear that? It’s absolutely silent.
After an all too short visit from our daughter and her three sweet little girls, it’s back to just noises like the furnace kicking in, the refrigerator running and the occa- sional car driving by the house.
What three young girls bring to an empty-nester home is nothing short of exhilarating. It also brings back memories.
Let’s begin with the part that’s exhilarating. Ages 7 (and-a-half ),
5 and 2 these three bring a force of energy that, if it could be harnessed, could run the world for years! They have a box of crayons, the UNO game, mini frisbees and Disney Kids on television, all while cross- talking over each other’s conversations trying to gain the upper hand with adults in the room.
(As an observer, it was, at times exhausting to keep each train of thought clear in my mind.)
Of course there’s a pecking order. Oldest to the youngest, with the middle child left hanging to con- tend for attention, all the while the other two have
figured out that they, without a doubt in their mind, are controlling the attention of the adults in the room.
(It’s kind of like watching the recent Democrat debate, with Bernie and Biden vying for control of the dialogue.)
They drew crayon pictures of their family members - Mom, Dad, each of the siblings, with the middle daughter’s hair fire engine red - rather than the strawberry blonde hair she sports. It was constant motion, conversation and a train of thought lasted no longer than the next thought that popped into their expanding minds.
As quickly as it happened, it all disappeared.
It was shortly after noon on Sunday that our daugh- ter decided to load up the car with sleeping bags, back- packs, boots and all of their paraphernalia brought to our house. It was time to head home.
Then it happened. Absolute, deafening silence! It was awkward.
Those three dynamos were in their SUV heading back to Maple Grove and perhaps sound asleep before they got to the end of the block.
It finally hit me that our empty-nest syndrome was our reality after having raised three of our own little girls, who were now bringing theirs to visit Mugga and Pappa’s.


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