Odd Socks

As I search through my sock drawer, I realise that I will have to wear odd socks, today. I bought 10 pairs, a few months ago, from Boots on a 2 for 1 offer. I bought them to wear with my jeans, to replace my old, black ones, which were beginning to wear thin. The new ones were all dark colours, but distinctly different. Some were black with grey toes and heels, some were grey, with a black pattern, some were black with a grey pattern. Even my husband would have noticed, if I'd mixed them up with his dark, plain man socks. Somehow, 2 of my distinctive socks have gone missing and today, I will have to wear a black one with a grey toe and heel and a grey one with a black pattern. I've been able to manage without wearing my odd socks, up until now, but my youngest son has gone back to university again, and without his dark clothes, I don't have enough dark washing to make up a load. I haven't got used to the idea, yet.

It's a sad time of year for a lot of mothers, whose sons or daughters are going off to university, leaving a gap behind them, which, somehow, can never be filled. It is my youngest son's second year at university, but I am finding his absence harder to deal with this year. My eldest son moved out 3 weeks ago and my middle son, as well as working 7 days a week, is now spending most of his time at his new girlfriend's house.

I always assumed that my 3 sons would leave home one at a time, over a period of a few years, as there is a gap of 6 years between the eldest and youngest, but, instead, they have gone over a period of a few weeks. Middle son and youngest son haven't moved out totally, of course, but it certainly feels that way, at the moment.

My husband and I helped my eldest son and his girlfriend to move into their rented house, which is about 30 minutes' travelling distance away from us, but we've heard very little from them since. They came over when we had a barbecue, a couple of weeks ago and we've taken some of eldest son's belongings over on a couple of occasions, but that's all that we've seen of them, so far. Eldest son became less and less comunicative when he reached adolescence, about 12 years ago, so, in recent years, I began to realise that, when he did finally move out, it was unlikely that he would bother too much about keeping in touch.

Suddenly, we have 3 spare bedrooms and the house, which was once full to overflowing with people and voices, is now mainly empty and still. When darkness falls, only a solitary room is illuminated in a house which once exploded with light, on the skyline.

I pull on my odd socks, go downstairs to the kitchen and switch on the radio. I turn the volume up a little louder than it needs to be, whilst I half fill the washing machine with dark clothing. I must go to Boots, later, to buy some more socks.

The Empty Nest

The traffic was heavy and fast-moving along the busy road, as we slowed to turn into the arboretum. The gravel crunched beneath the tyres, as we drove through the tall, black, wrought iron, double gates into a contrasting world of peace and tranquility. It had been several years since we had last visited the arboretum and the large, stately cedar, situated close to the entrance was a forgotten, but welcome sight.

We parked the car and then headed in the direction of the old cedar tree, looking forward to the first sightings of peacocks and bluebells. I watched our 3 young sons, running ahead, chasing each other around the cedar's ample trunk. The peacocks' calls echoed all around us, as we walked towards the bluebell dell, and the boys continued to run in front, laughing and calling to one another. They bent down low, to run in and out of the accommodating, natural dens, formed by numerous, spreading, glossy-leaved rhododendrons. They hid behind large, reddish-brown, velvety trunks of giant sequoia and jumped out, in eager anticipation, whilst we were still nowhere near.

Eventually, in a grassy, sunny clearing, we came across a peacock, displaying its bejewelled tail, and even our young, excited sons stopped short, in awe of the exotic bird, slowly turning and shaking its glorious feathers. When we reached the magical, bluebell dell they were, once again, brought to a halt, by the enchanting sea of brilliant blue, which lay before them, still and undisturbed, bathed in dappled shade. We sat, for a few short minutes, on a nearby bench, whilst our 3 young boys ran to and fro, along the path in front of us, marvelling at their inexhaustible supplies of energy. Slowly, we walked back towards the large cedar, with the boys still running in front, stopping only occasionally, to pick up the odd fir cone from the ground.

In the car, once more, as we neared the wrought iron gates, I opened the window, to gaze past the large cedar. In the distance, I caught glimpses of our 3 young sons, still chasing each other around the tall, imposing trees. Their laughter was drowned by the mournful cries of the peacocks, cries which rose above the tallest branches, to escape into the clear, blue, vacant skies. I glanced into the empty back seat of the car, as we approached the busy main road, and I knew, in my heart, that my young family was lost to me, forever.