So, David moved out this weekend. He found an apartment he’s sharing with 2 other men, packed up and left. Well, packed up mostly…he left a bunch of stuff but we’re giving him until next Sunday to get everything. Anything that is left will be packed up and put on top of his car at the apartment complex. I Don’t Want It.
There’s an odd feeling when a kid moves out. It’s hard to describe and I haven’t decided if I like it or not. It’s not horrible or scary, just kind of disconnected. For instance, when I fix supper tonight, it will be for 3 of us. Just Terry, #4 and me. That’s it. How do you make tacos for 3 people? One box of shells. I’ve never made tacos from one box of shells. I’ll let you know how it goes.
I’m happy for him. Finally we have a kid move out the normal way. He’s got a good job, good prospects for school. He’s taking over a lease from a fellow who’s getting married, and in exchange for David taking over the lease, the fellow is letting David have all his stuff- furniture, dishes, everything. I am happy that he’s been so fortunate, it’s like a big reward for making intelligent choices. I am proud of him.
But it feels ODD, being left with 1 kid at home. Fortunately, he’s 11, so there’s a few years yet before we rudely throw him out.
Terry and I discussed what to do with David’s old room. We’re thinking a library, perhaps. We have multitudes of bookcases in odd places, in the hallways, etc. We’re thinking we’ll move them all into his room, maybe add a desk and a comfortable chair. It’s already painted a rawther nice kind of dark shade of green, very libraryish.
*sigh* when we had 3 kids in 3-1/2 years, I never really considered what it would feel like when they all left home at the same time. It feels kind of strange.