Seen through the eyes of an 18-year-old, our refrigerator looked pretty sad. Elliot was home a few weeks ago, for one short and oh-so-sweet week during his college spring break, and there he stood, leaning on the refrigerator door, looking in. I stood behind him and realized how desperate the situation was.Â
We empty nesters don’t stock the fridge the way we used to. Sure, there are the required things: half-and-half, apples, almond butter, pickles, feta cheese and salad greens. We always have cans of tuna fish, cold seltzer and hot sauce. But Elliot, after finishing his midterms and slogging home, sleeping shamefully late and waking with dreams of bacon and eggs, bagels, strawberries, orange juice and muffins, just stared at the pickles and mayonnaise.Â
I felt bad, then, seeing his messy hair and the hopeful face that gave way to disappointment. I made up for the lack of decent breakfast food by calling the corner market and ordering up a breakfast sandwich. I was forgiven, but thoughts of that empty refrigerator and how it’s filled at different times of our lives has stayed with me.Â
There’s quite a difference in what we stocked for a houseful of kids (and even just a houseful of the youngest kid), and the food we eat as people with no children in the house. Even though we don’t regularly stock most of what Elliot was looking for that Saturday morning, we do make meals, and pretty good ones, too. They’re just different.Â
Dinner in the nest that doesn’t feed children is often late, off-the-cuff, and unhurried. Sometimes, Paul and I take our plates to comfy chairs, pull on a blanket and eat while we talk about the day. No dinner table required. I didn’t think I’d like the empty-nest thing and, in many ways, I’m still adjusting. But those late, quiet and cozy dinners are a perk of having no children in the house.Â
Paul and I have gotten…
Read the full article here