Feathering My New Empty Nest

Get jealous of other people's holidays Go online, spend endless hours on holiday porn sites Consult bank balance Throw caution to the wind Book something unsuitable, let's face it, it's a lottery Buy stupid swimsuits Unsuccessfully attempt to locate last year's suncreams Buy all new suncreams - what price skin health hey ? Locate last year's untouched suncreams Pack Unpack Re-pack Raid supermarket aisles for swimwear, flip flops and sunhats in garish colours Fret about who's going to feed the cats and water the plants Worry about getting to the airport in time Get to airport with several hours to spare Board plane, eventually Get sat next to woman with hacking cough or screaming baby or possibly both Endure miserable flight then disembark to sweltering temperature wearing winter clothing Arrive at destination Phone home to check cats have been fed Pull out high-vis sherbert coloured leisure wear Burn yourself on day one Accumulate enough ...

... that I would have become used to our empty nest given that youngest went to Uni last Autumn . I'm not sure I ever will. The sadness ebbs and flows like the sea , often gathering energy like a tidal wave that overwhelms me at times. My motivational wristband says go with the flow but I haven't mastered the art yet. I could put it down to age. It doesn't allow me to handle change as well as I used to in my youth or I could attribute it to the 'hole' in my aura which a whacky healer once told me I possessed which apparently compels me to look after everybody else but then that's just called parenting isn't it ? No amount of displacement therapy, otherwise know as signing up for a batch of adult education classes , fleeting bouts of wellness activity such as early morning swimming or de-cluttering frenzies , can dispel the strange little cloud of sadness that accompanies me everywhere. The academic year has finished and he'll be home for the holida...