Filling Time: TwinLife Empty-Nesting

We are halfway through 2026, and it was a year ago that my babies graduated from high school. Last year at this time was consumed by prom, baseball state playoffs, graduation, the baseball banquet and alumni game, the dance recital, and college prep. This year is so different. Everyone has been asking me this week – are the kids home?

Yes, they are. And it is good.

But it’s different. I’m not managing everything. I’m not figuring out how I get from work to the playoff game, whether my son has eaten enough, as athletes need to, whether my daughter needs new toe shoes before or after the performance and whether I need to be physically present for all of these things as they transition into adulthood.

After 9 months of constant motion in a different way than in the past, this weekend, I had nothing to do.

I was not in charge of anyone else. I did not need to shepherd my children into or around anything. I did not need to host or be hosted. For the first time in a long time, I woke up to a day with no obligations attached to it. No drive to a college campus. No work event. No meeting to prepare for. No baseball game. No dance performance. No packing. No unpacking. No agenda.

Just a day.

And honestly? I didn’t realize it at first. I started the day with my normal routine – get up and go to the gym. It wasn’t until I got home that I recognized that I had a day of nothing in front of me. I could fill it with anything — the local craft fair, shopping with my daughter, sorting in the attic — but in that moment, I decided to fill it with nothing. As soon as I made the decision to do absolutely nothing, I felt relief.

To celebrate my day of nothing, I decided to make avocado toast, which I love but rarely eat. It was a special tribute to start my day of nothing.

My son commented as I savored it. “That’s some nice looking avocado toast.” He knew that making avocado toast was significant though he probably didn’t know the significance of my decision to make it.

The night before I found a new show. Something silly, something entertaining, something viral (as my daughter later informed me). I had stayed up way too late to watching. My son emerged from the basement around midnight saying, “Why are you still awake?” It’s because I couldn’t sleep and because I was hooked. I binged the rest of the episodes during and after eating my avocado toast. I needed to do something different. I needed to just watch, to be immersed in something while doing nothing.

My time this past year has been filled with quick motion. Work has been busy. The kids have been in and out, home and gone and home again. Each month seems to shepherd in a new set of logistics, responsibilities, reconnections, and opportunities. I haven’t been able to slow down.

But this past weekend, the empty day arrived, and I realized that I needed to give myself permission to just be. It was just a day of ordinary time. It was a day I probably won’t remember. I probably won’t remember the name of the show I binged, the characters, or even the plot. But I will remember the feeling of relief. And of course, I’ll continue to savor avocado toast whenever I get the opportunity.