Empty nest

The children left with their dad for a short holiday to Chennai. I was feeling low for the last couple of hours - of course, they were super-excited! I hugged them tightly, deeply inhaled the scent of them, kissed them soundly. I went downstairs to see them off in the cab. They waved goodbye cheerfully through the windows.
Back upstairs, their slippers had been carelessly cast away on the living room floor. What would have normally got me mutter under my breath (or yell!) in annoyance now elicited a deep pang. Slowly I walked around the house, picking up a toy car here, assorted books there, some scraps of paper, clips and hairbands, dirty dishes....mechanically depositing everything in it's appointed place.

I cleaned the dining table, pulled out a fresh tablecover and adjusted it over the table, knowing it would remain pristine and unwrinked for the next 5 days. There would be no spills or splotches, no books lying on top of it, no markers staining it in big unseemly blotches. I plumped up the cushions on the sofa, knowing that they would remain in the same position for the next few days and would not be thrown on the floor while the sofa became a rocket-launcher, tractor or skyscraper!

The kids' room was a big mess. I easily resisted the urge to clean it up. I let the toys and books and crayons stay littered all over the bed, floor and table.

The rest of the house is immaculate. Beds are made, clothes hang in the closet. There are no toothpaste stains in the wash-basin. There are no stray slippers. I don't trip over random objects on the floor.

And yet the most perfect warm and welcoming room is the room which my kids have made their own. The messiest room in the house awaits its rightful inhabitants.