Being fifty-something, the reality of an empty nest has been on the horizon for some time.
Foresight was cold comfort when I returned from a recent holiday to discover that Boy Wonder (my last little chick) had kicked himself out of the family snuggery and into a new adventure with his girlfriend.
Don’t get me wrong … the possibility had been raised before the event. I guess I was in denial. That is, until I opened up the appliance cupboard and was confronted by a big gap where Boy Wonder’s coffee machine had once lived.
For some weird-and-wacky reason, that’s when it really hit home.
That’s when I knew Boy Wonder was really gone.
And ever since, it’s been about the coffee machine.
Dearest Coffee Machine,
I know you were never really mine.
You were only on loan until you made your way out into the world.
Just the same, I got attached to you (maybe even addicted).
I got accustomed to greeting you every morning and the little lift you gave my day.
As long as you were here, there was the chance of seeing you mid-afternoon, evening or even over dinner.
Sometimes we even shared breakfast. Or lunch.
Sometimes, you sat on the bench top and (together) we solved the world’s big problems.
Now, I miss the kick you gave my every day and I daydream about how to get you back.
Coffee machine, you have left a big empty space in my
heart appliance cupboard that no one else can fill.
Not even George Clooney.
Wish you were here.
Mum Sheryl x