Please don't ask me what it feels like to be an empty-nester

Maybe I'd feel better if the question everyone's been asking me lately was, "How does it feel to be a $2 million lottery winner?" or  "How does it feel to be the new Sports Illustrated swimsuit cover model?"

No, my cliche-question-du-jour, every jour for the last 15 jours has been, "How does it feel to be an empty-nester?" said, believe it or not, as if this was a clever and original inquiry that not only shows how aware-of-my-current-situation the questioner is, but also pretends to be, what, I don't even know, sympathetic? Envious? Bizarrely curious about life-almost-one-foot-in-the grave? (Yeah, my friends are all younger than me, and they think they'll  never catch up to how old I am. I used to think I'd never be this old either, you sillies).

"How does it feel to be an empty-nester?" Doesn't that refer to a mommy bird? How long are birds moms for, like two weeks, before their baby birds fly away to the University of Michigan to watch football high above that ginormous stadium with their new bird friends?

I've been a mom for one thousand two hundred and thirty seven weeks. And now my nest is empty. Snap your fingers and they're gone. Only it wasn't a snap of the fingers. It was long, long nights of waking at their slightest baby whimpers and holding them close to me, pretending that I had some special mommy love that could soothe them, and longer nights of sitting on the floor next to their bed, listening to their self-doubts and their fears, hoping that my special mommy love could make them feel better. 

So please don't ask me a question as if I'm a mommy bird that said goodbye-good-luck-with-the-worm-thing to her baby bird. 

How about, "How are you?"

And I'll tell you, "I'm OK, thanks. I can't believe I got here this fast. I can't believe what a  long, tough road it's been. I can't believe how hard I worked at parenting. I can't believe how wonderful my children are. No, I'm not sure what I'm going to do next. Do you mean tomorrow? I'm going to throw a lot of junk out. I'm going to clean out their rooms and organize my office and give old clothes away. But after that? I don't know. This is a big change after one thousand two hundred and thirty seven weeks."

And if you listen really carefully (I'm not sure you'll hear it because it's inside my heart) I'll tell you that I am praying that my special mommy love from all those days and all those nights is tucked so deep inside of them that it will keep them feeling loved and safe always.