Some mornings I simply don’t know where this cursor is going to lead me.

This would be one of those mornings.

Sitting in the warmth of the sun, pondering what seems to be a fall morning, I wonder, will it stay this way. Will the weather continue to bring us that mild morning chill, those beautiful midday temps we’ve longed for? I sure hope so.

This morning my mind drifts to the beauty and peacefulness of “stillness.”

Our home is no longer loud and bustling as it once was. It’s just me now, well and three dogs faithfully surrounding me as I find my way around our mostly vacant home. It seems so much bigger than I remember.

It just all happened so fast. Or did it really?

As we all know, when you’re in the thick of things they just seem to last forever. The “will this ever end,” or “I hope I survive” … this self-talk is real.

As parents, we know the moments are fleeting, the discussion of the void, however, of the empty nest is indeed one I feel is under served. The realization of “now what,” as we look to vacant childhood bedrooms and text messages are few and far between.

They are flying, just as they should and now it’s our turn for something new and different. Yet what does that look like?

Please understand and put away the violins, this column is hardly a pity party. I’m proud of my duo, as I hope all parents would be. Each of them is fiercely independent (I did not see that coming) and true adventure seekers. There is no hesitation in either of their steps as they go forward now and build their own memories, take their own risks and venture out to see the world.

It’s exciting. Yet I would be lying if I did not say, I reflect often these days on how I was at their age to help calm my nerves. This world is so different than the one I ventured into at the age of 18. Enhancements and inventions only once seen in the movies, now a part of everyday life.

A world more jaded, disconnected and cold than I remember. A world of Google experts ready to share their two cents and shut out the world when confronted with opposition.

Yet there is also good and light and love. I’m grateful to a community, a cast of friends and two wise young adults who make a point to remind me when my empathetic heart starts to break at the hands of this world.

This may sound dark, again, the fingers are leading the words.

My hope for those who have followed this space, you know me well enough to understand while it is not intended to be this, it is at the same time a true reflection on all the things.

In stillness what I am coming to learn and reflect on is so many things.

What I’ve pondered mostly over the past few weeks is how the transition of the empty nest varies for the couple versus the single parent. The one who once held it all together and now has nothing to hold. It’s a real thing.

And while that too may sound a bit dark and depressing it really is a void which I’m slowly learning to manage.

I love this job. I love sharing my musings with the five of you who have read it for decades – yes, decades. Truth be told, the one thing that kept me in this job for this long was not my love for writing, it was the love for my children. This job afforded me the ability to be the things for them my mom was not able to. To be the room mom, the carpool mom, the playdate mom and yes, even the sports mom for a few seasons.

The flexibility, the late nights of work while they slept, the harvest festivals and field trips – all made possible by flexibility in the workplace.

It’s been a busy 20 years. Today, what I think I’m learning, is maybe it’s time for a bit of relax, recharge and stillness.

At minimum we’ll give this a try, until of course, my fingers decide to share a different musing approach, anecdote or theory. Happy nesting.

Teresa Hammond is a staff reporter for The Oakdale Leader, The Riverbank News and The Escalon Times. She may be reached at thammond@oakdaleleader.com or by calling 209-847-3021.