The Big Picture

The Big Picture From Chicken Soup for the Soul: Empty Nesters

We're watching a show on our new big screen TV. My husband and I are enjoying something or other, feet up on the new ottoman, the smell of paint still fresh.

We love the room. It's our romantic hideaway. No laundry, dressers, messy beds. Just our couch and chairs, a table for tea in the morning, and our new television.

"It's the first room we've ever had with all new furniture," I remind him, still amazed. We've been married for over thirty years and each of our rooms contains furniture from many, many years, some dating as far back as our individual apartments before we married.

But not this room. Everything is new, including the floor, the windows, the sliding door. We are in heaven. I just bought the last thing for the room, a furry rug for the old dog — one of the last remnants of our long life with children. And the old cat purring beside me, of course.
Ted's leg is up because of arthritis. I recently broke my foot, tripping on an old boot. No problem, we have our new ottoman.

"We've been around the block, the four of us," he says, looking at four content, well-worn elders.

The show is over and we're off to other activities. E-mail, likely. We've not quite decided what to call this new room. The Porch? The TV Room? We tried The Family Room, but that didn't quite fit since there are only the two of us left now that the kids are on their own.
The room is still new; it will find its name.

We swore, "No kids coming here with friends to watch football on this big screen."
The kids — young and working to make their way — don't have big screen TV yet. They have small children with early bedtimes. Not us, we smirk. Free at last!

When our favorite football team missed the Super Bowl by one game, we sighed in relief. "Whew! Now the kids won't want to watch our television." Super Bowl day came and went. We both peered out the window from time to time to see if their cars pulled up. "Just to check on the game anyway." They didn't.

We lost interest and watched something else.

Tonight we expect no children. We enjoy ourselves immensely in our new room. Getting ready for bed, I call downstairs to my husband, "Don't forget to turn out the lights in Tommy's old room."
I know that's a name that will stick — at least for awhile. The baby is gone and his room is ours. It took years for Jody's old room to be renamed Ted's Office and even when Sarah got married and moved away, her old room took a long time to be called The Guest Room.

Our romantic new room will take a long time to outgrow our last child and his legacy in our home. Maybe it doesn't matter, because our son will be back. They all will. After all, we own the best TV.

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