Empty Nest

Children are a gift from God that He so freely lends

To make it through the childhood years, on Him we must depend.

God calls us to be parents and gives us all the tools

And when we feel like giving up, our strength He will renew.

- Author Unknown

The car doors were flung open. Joel and Jordie burst out, two cannonballs flying into my arms, leaving their father to close the doors. By the time Travis reached us I was on my knees, relishing the warm hugs.

“Hello,” Travis said stiffly.

“Hi,” I said. “How’s the day been so far?”

“Good. I took them to Mum’s. There was cake.”

“Cake!” I said, addressing the boys now. “Was it yum?”

“Yeah, but we want icecream!” Joel’s voice was light, not yet broken.

“And mini golf!” said Jordie.

“Let’s go then,” I said. The boys took me by the hand, one each, and led me down the foreshore towards the weekend carnival. Travis followed a few steps behind.

“Dad let us cook dinner last night,” Jordie said.

“Jordie burned the carrots,” said Joel.

“I did not!” said Jordie. Joel gave him one of those looks that twins share. “Well... maybe I forgot they were on.”

They both laughed.

“Actually it was funny because when Dad called on Wednesday, he asked what we wanted to cook on the weekend and we said salmon, but we actually meant snapper, so Dad searched everywhere for a good bit of salmon and we were like ‘huh?’ when we saw it, because we thought it would be snapper.”

I imagined Travis trawling through the fish markets, searching for the perfect piece of salmon.

“So it’s just icecream and mini golf today, right?” asked Joel with a cheeky grin.

“Right,” I said, laughing. “I wouldn’t want to tire you two poor old men out like last time. Funny... I thought you were eight, not eighty. I must have you confused with someone else.”

The boys dissolved into giggles.

“Yeah but last time we did the museum and the fun park and the water slides all in one day!” said Jordie.

“Ok, ok,” I said. “Maybe I went a little overboard.”

“But afterwards,” Joel said. “Remember how we played Monopoly and we bankrupted Dad right at the start?”

I remembered. It was almost two months ago.

As the boys walked and chatted they absentmindedly zipped their jackets up and down.

“It was freezing this morning but it’s too hot now,” Jordie said.

“And you were going to wear your scarf too,” said Joel.

“Was not!” Jordie leaned across me and pushed Joel in the shoulder.

“Boys!” Travis said. “Enough.”

“Sorry Dad,” Jordie said quickly. Joel tightened his mouth and didn’t reply.

“Can I take my jacket off?” Jordie asked, looking up at me with big brown eyes.

“Sure,” I said. “I’d hate for you to become two little steamed buns.”

They wrenched their jackets off, leaving the sleeves hanging inside out.

“Give them here, boys,” Travis said. I put the sleeves in the right way and folded the jackets. He took them both but left me holding my cardigan, and I draped it over my shoulder while the boys waited impatiently to take my hands again.

“Did you know that cows contribute to climate change with their farts?” said Jordie as we neared the carnival. Joel stuck his free hand under his shirt and made farting noises. He and Jordie giggled even harder.

“Hey listen, they’re playing Heartbreak Hotel. Grandma is right, Elvis is great!”

“How did you go from fart jokes to appreciation for fifties music in one breath?” I asked.

“Just the way we are, I guess,” said Jordie. “You always said we were, what was it, contractions?”

“Contradictions,” Travis said.

“So that means we get to be good and bad at the same time, right?” Joel said.

*

“Mini golf,” said Jordie, as we entered the carnival. “Then icecream, then an arcade game last. Because I’m going to win that huge penguin up there, and I don't want to carry it all around the golf course!”

“No, icecream first, for energy,” said Joel. “And anyway... I’m hungry.”

Travis absentmindedly played with his watch.

After much discussion it was butterscotch for Jordie, triple-choc for Joel and peppermint for me. Travis ordered a coffee then paid for the lot.

The boys wore more of it than they ate, and what was left they stirred madly, making icecream soup.

Icecream soup stirred a memory of Christmas Eve last year. The boys, excited to be spending Christmas at home, finally settled for the night.

Travis cornered me with tears in his eyes.

“What’s happening to us?” His bottom lip started trembling.

Oh Jesus, he’s not going to start sobbing, is he? I remember thinking.

“I’m going to Mum’s,” I said. “I’ll be back before they wake up.”

He followed me out to my car, and tried to kiss me as I got in. I ducked my head just in time and reversed out. He looked childlike as, shoulders slumped, he watched me leave.

I was startled out of my reverie by Jordie handing me a golf club.

“You know, not only have you got an icecream moustache, you’re sporting a beard as well,” I said.

The boys shrieked with delight and jostled to see their reflections in the countertop, followed by frenzied wiping with the backs of their hands.

We were terrible at mini golf. It seemed the boys’ goal was to hit the ball into the lake. One hour, an embarrassing scoresheet, and two pairs of soggy shoes later we emerged from the course.

Seeing the boys’ rosy-faced happiness made my stomach churn, as I remembered last Christmas morning. They were still asleep when I returned but Travis clearly hadn’t slept.

“If this is it, then you’ll lose them too.”

“You’re actually going to use them? To what... to force me to stay? If I love them I have to stay with you?”

He shrugged. I turned away, repulsed.

“Please,” he said, his voicing cracking. “We can make this work...”

“Keep it together, will you? They’ll be up soon. Don’t spoil Christmas for them.”

Travis hurried the boys through their arcade game, then ushered us through the exit. The walk back was a sombre affair. Travis made the boys walk in front, away from me.

“You just couldn’t wait for today to be done with, could you,” I said under my breath as the boys clambered into their father’s car. Hugging their prizes, they looked tired and small.

“Happy birthday, my darlings,” I said, gripping the car door so tightly that my knuckles turned white.

“Call me if you want to talk,” Travis said, starting the engine.

“What, another coffee date where you start crying in the middle of the café and beg me to come back?”

My sudden anger took me back to the day, just after New Years, when I knew it was irreparably broken. The boys had left on Christmas night and I missed them terribly. Travis, having taken me out for the day, disappeared into a market stall and emerged with a white rose.

“A white flag?” I said, taking the rose. An unpleasant chill ran through me as his fingers touched mine.

“White roses are for passion, don't you remember? You used to love them.”

I looked at the rose and knew, finally, that it was over.

“I'm done,” I said simply.

“Then you’re done with them too.”

“Surely... surely it doesn’t have to be that way. They’ll be back this weekend; we’ve got the circus...”

“Mum can help.”

“Why do you need your mother? They’re your kids, why...”

“Exactly,” he said, triumphant. “They’re my kids, not yours. They have a mother, remember? You’re just, what, some woman I’ve been seeing for a few months. You don’t mean anything to them.”

I caught a glimpse of my face in the car window.

“Do you think you’ll ever grow up?” I asked Travis, aware that the boys were still watching me. “Is it so ridiculous to think that we could have a friendship - hell, even just a tolerance - for their sake?”

Travis shrugged. “Like I said, it’s up to you.”

He pulled out of the parking lot and sped down the street.

This can’t be it, I thought, fighting back tears.

Maybe he’d let me see them again at Easter, just for an hour. And maybe by then they will have forgotten me a little, so the only one suffering would be me.

Times of joy and laughter and inevitable tears

The times spent raising a child are the very best of years.

There comes that time in life when a child will leave the nest

Send them off with love and prayer and leave to God the rest.

- Author Unknown