Sweet Silence?

Ali Spagnola

Last winter, as the college visits began to wane, replaced by FAFSAs and a college to-do list, I found myself projecting to the time when my daughter would be happily ensconced at college. A good antidote to the recurring nag-ignore cycle in which we sometimes found ourselves between acceptances and the move itself, it reminded me that though her imminent departure made me sad, there might actually be some things to look forward to.

Last night, as I was settling on today's topic for this blog, I came across a draft of that post. The timing was perfect, because this week, we're preparing to head north for Parents' Weekend, seeing her for the first time since we dropped her off in August. 

I think it's safe to say she's settled in well. Surprisingly, so have we.

The list of things I wouldn't miss was short -- one item in fact. It was the music. Unfailingly loud and always peaking when I was trying to concentrate, its sudden bursts could shake the thoughts right out of my head. Don't get me wrong -- I like music, and my daughter and I actually like some of the same stuff. It's just that I work better in quiet, and a blast of any sound when I'm trying to think is generally unwelcome, especially now that I've reached the age where wispy threads of thought unravel at twice the speed in which they form. 

I wondered, however, if this was a case of being careful what I wished for -- if the lack of music would make the house too quiet.

It didn't.

There is one sound I miss, though. The sound of her voice. I miss talking to her and hearing her laugh. Texts are wonderful, and I'm profoundly aware of how fortunate I am to be parenting a young adult in a time when communication is so fast and so easy. But those same teens have developed an aversion to phone calls, and so actual conversations -- the ones where I get to hear what's going on in her life -- are infrequent. And greatly missed. 

And so, not surprisingly, that's what I'm most looking forward to this weekend. Just talking. Laughing. Spending time with her. 

I have a feeling the weekend will go much too quickly, and, when we return home again, the house will seem much too quiet.

At least until Thanksgiving.