Last one out of the house…

The holiday has passed and is over and the next topic of conversation in our home concerns finals, APs and high school graduation. I’m more than a bit overwhelmed by emotions elicited by these events, reminders that our youngest child will soon be leaving our nest. With the close of her high school years looming, she’ll soon commence the faraway Israel and college chapters of her life. My husband and I will be left home alone for the first time since our oldest son was born in 1988. Like my daughter, I am nervous about the next stage. As for any new situation I find myself in, my immediate gut reaction includes butterflies in the stomach, nausea, sadness, apprehension, but also a sense of excitement.

I usually worry about doing something or going somewhere new by questioning who will be there, will I like it, will they like me, how will I cope (and what should I wear?!?). I’ve guided my kids with the advice that they should have a positive attitude, smile and be friendly; that all they need to do is find one friendly face, just one person with whom to connect, and they’ll be fine. I hope we will be, too!

Like most people I know, I’ve faced some typical changes; moving from Crown Heights to Midwood, graduating high school, advancing to college, commencing a career, moving temporarily to Israel, getting married, traveling abroad, meeting my foreign in-laws, moving to Queens, Brooklyn, the Five Towns, becoming a mom thrice, getting involved in our community, enabling our kids independence, finding a new career.

With each change come “normal” reactions; denial, fear or exhilaration. Joyous events fly by, and I need to slow down to fully savor those incredible moments. As for unfortunate illnesses and G-d forbid, tragedies, I’m only now slowly beginning to accept that I can’t control the world and the best medicine is to try to breathe deeply. In both cases I have to remember the One who is really running the show.

Through all the milestones, I recall lovingly who was there with me; my parents, grandparents, sister, husband, children, cousins and old friends have accompanied me through those special times. It feels safe, comfortable and so easy to hang out with the old timers, those who understand and know me best. But it can also be an incredible rush connecting with someone new who shares my interest.

I’ve heard people say that it’s hard to make lasting friendships after college but I disagree. I became good friends with a stranger 24 years ago by bumping our strollers together in a grocery store in Briarwood. We were brand new moms with plenty to talk about. I connected with my kids’ friends’ parents at HAFTR’s book fairs and cheering at Beth Sholom’s Little League games. Hadassah and Jewish Book Council brought me opportunities to engage with women passionate about Israel, community and reading. I chat away with my longtime hairdresser, a blonde, Catholic mom who is similar to me. I’m bonding with fellow yoga teachers, hanging out with them in and out of class. Who knew you can cultivate close attachments at my age and beyond?

Despite all this positivity, I’m still nervous about the approaching fall change being overwhelming. It will be hard to downsize grocery shopping and cook for just two. I’ll cry about the absence of the beautiful person living in the other bedroom (and even the hip hop music emanating from beyond her closed door). I’ll long for chatty teens showing up spontaneously for Shabbat lunch. I’ll be thrown off balance by no longer living the school calendar. I may even miss the endless laundry pile and annoying eye-rolling.

I’ve got plans brewing in my head to deal with this lifestyle change. I will immerse myself more deeply in current activities and revive some I’ve neglected. I’ll increase visits to Brooklyn, Princeton and Israel for more face time with my kids and parents. I’ll coax my boys to come home more for Shabbat. I dream of spontaneous weekend trips away with my husband, with nobody keeping us home. I will do some overdue “spring” cleaning this fall.

I’ll have to deal with a condition I’ve happily avoided for two and a half decades. When I became the newly married wife of a doctor working all-nighters twice a week, I learned that I don’t like being on my own much, especially at night. I prefer having a loved one nearby, even if we’re in separate rooms in “parallel play” each doing our own thing.

When I kvetched to my mom about this long ago, she wisely told me that once I had children I’d never be lonely. She was so right. These past 24 years I’ve cherished the noisiness of a houseful of kids and barely knew what to do with myself during quiet breaks. Now our home will return to a calmer state and I’ll have to learn to embrace it. Every ending is a new beginning! And as my 9th grade morah said, “kol hatchalot kashot” --all beginnings are difficult.

Miriam Bradman Abrahams is Cuban born, Brooklyn bred and lives in Woodmere. She organizes author events for Hadassah, reviews books for Jewish Book World and is very slowly writing her father’s immigration story. She can be contacted at mabraha1@optonline.net.