Updated: July 30, 2019
Originally Published: July 14, 2015
A few years ago, when my eldest child, Alex, embarked on his college journey, the transition felt remarkably smooth. Since he was attending a trimester school, he left a few weeks later than his peers, and by that time, we were all ready. As we drove away from campus, I fought back tears, but it was difficult to dwell on sadness, knowing he would thrive—and so would we.
However, after the first winter break, the reality of his absence hit my husband and me harder. During the holiday, we slipped back into our familiar routine, as if the grand adventure had ended successfully. But then, off he went again. Across the dinner table, we exchanged glances burdened with unspoken emotions. “Every time he leaves, I realize things will never be the same,” I remarked. “And I worry that perhaps I won’t see him again,” my husband added.
This is the cycle. They leave, they return, and they leave again. Each farewell is bittersweet, filled with both joyful moments and challenges—like the clutter they bring home or the habits formed during their time away. And then summer arrives, offering yet another iteration of this pattern: hello, goodbye.
This summer, Alex is spending time in New York City, a destination that seems both fitting and essential for him. The city has always held a magnetic allure for me, a bright star at the core of my universe. Growing up in Connecticut, I couldn’t help but feel the vibrant energy of New York, both tantalizingly close and vastly different from my small town. Childhood trips to see Reggie Jackson at Yankee Stadium or attend operas at the opulent Metropolitan Opera were thrilling experiences.
My initial connection to the city came during an overnight college visit, where I pondered whether this urban life was truly for me. Ultimately, I chose to stay in Connecticut, within a comfortable distance. However, my relationship with the city deepened when my college boyfriend—now my husband—moved to New York. I would frequently drive my aging Ford Escort into the city, hoping it wouldn’t break down in those daunting outskirts. We explored the streets, visited museums, and dined at local spots long before chains like Chipotle existed. Nights were spent listening to the sounds of the city—the sirens and honking horns—while I lay awake, captivated by the rhythm around me.
My husband, a native of Baltimore, also felt a pull toward New York. His father worked in Manhattan, and his family had historical ties to the area dating back to the early Dutch settlers. It was only natural for him to explore that connection.
Alex, too, is drawn to the city. While studying in New York state, he has settled into a life that mirrors our own experiences. Growing up watching reruns of Friends—before the era of streaming—he has absorbed the city’s culture. I thought it was entirely reasonable for him to want to immerse himself in the city’s vibrancy. However, that first night after he left, my anxiety kept me awake, with worries flickering like the city lights I imagined outside his window. Although sending him off with a meal plan felt secure, New York’s reality was different. In Hell’s Kitchen, safety isn’t guaranteed.
What was his apartment like? Had I even checked its condition? Thoughts of bed bugs and uninvited pests clouded my mind. Did he know how to manage his food budget? I had no input in helping him find a job. I woke my husband, who reassured me, reminding me that we had navigated similar paths during our own summers of youth.
Parenting is filled with pivotal moments. Each milestone—walking, speaking, reading—has felt like a triumph. With three children and countless transitions under our belts, we should recognize that new challenges are always on the horizon. This summer, Alex will take Manhattan or, perhaps, it will take him.
Recently, I visited him, warmed by the bus driver’s rendition of “New York, New York” as we entered the Lincoln Tunnel. The city’s energy still radiates like the sun—intense and inviting. Alex was excited to see me, joining me for dinner and then lunch the following day, embodying that youthful need for care and connection.
Yet, he was also growing into a city-savvy individual. We rode the subway together and roamed the streets, with him showcasing the city he is beginning to call home. The experience felt like a nostalgic trip back in time, albeit with Starbucks cups replacing the local diners of the past.
This journey will be invaluable for him. New York is a proving ground; if he can succeed there, he can thrive anywhere. That phrase is familiar to many, and as youth often defines “making it,” maturity allows for a deeper understanding of what that truly entails. In the space between youth and adulthood lies the essence of New York.
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Summary
The article reflects on the emotional landscape of parenting during the transitional phase known as the empty nest. It narrates the experiences of a mother as her eldest child, Alex, embarks on a summer adventure in New York City, evoking personal memories and highlighting the bittersweet nature of farewells. As Alex adapts to city life, the narrative underscores the universal challenges of parental anxiety and the joys of witnessing a child’s growth.