Lost in Suburbia: Finding some purls of wisdom

When my son started getting ready to leave for college two years ago, I dealt with the impending loss by cooking. I made more lasagna, chili, and baked ziti then you could shake a spatula at. On some level, I realized what I was doing was feeding him my love. Which made me wonder why, when my daughter started getting ready to go to college, I began to knit. Usually you think of knitting as a nesting activity - something you do when you’re preparing to welcome a baby into the house. But I was preparing for my baby to leave the house. It made no sense.

I used to knit when the kids were little but hadn’t picked up a ball of yarn in over 13 years. Now, suddenly I had the urge to knit again. I started out with a few scarves and a couple of hats, but soon I was knitting beanies by the dozen. I guess I could understand if my daughter was going to school in Antarctica and she actually needed to wear six hats at one time. But she wasn’t and so after the seventh hat she told me she didn’t need any more. At that point, I just started knitting willy-nilly for anyone or anything that came along.

I knit baby blankets and berets, muffs and mittens, pillows and ponchos. Before long I had worked my way up to covers for the desktop and a cozy for the Keurig. The dog got a sweater. Then booties. Then a hat. At this point he looked like he was wearing a canine onesie and so, to save what little was left of his dignity, I moved on. I knit a wrap for the fish bowl, but then we couldn’t see the fish so I repurposed it as a scarf for the houseplant. I was the Queen of the knitting needles. The Countess of the Cross Stitch. Knitzilla.

While all this was very well and good, I realized I wasn’t really feeling any better about my daughter leaving for college than I did before I knit a poncho for the family car. Although the act of knitting was soothing and everyone in town had a new hat to show for my efforts, I knew it wasn’t going to keep my daughter home and I knew it wasn’t going to make me feel any less lost when she left. With the departure of my second and last child, my job description was going to change dramatically for the first time in 20 years. I would no longer be a Stay at Home Mom. I would be an Empty Nester. Just the sound of it made me want to fall on my knitting needles.

Somehow, just acknowledging that gave me some solace and I realized there might also be some benefits to it being just me, my husband and the dog. Plus, in all likelihood, we would not have so much as an empty nest but a revolving door for some time.

As we dropped her off in her dorm, I kissed her goodbye with a heavy heart. I knew it was not going to be an easy transition but at least, in the meantime, I could knit covers for all her textbooks.

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