Flying the Nest

by Shelley White
^{(creative writers at MoreWriting)}

'I can't wait to go to uni, Mum,' Gemma said, her hazel eyes growing wider by the second. 'My hall of residence looks great and I'm really looking forward to meeting new people.'

'Yes, not that you'll have any trouble making friends. You're such a sociable being. And I'm sure you'll still keep in touch with some of your schoolmates.'

'Yeah, 'course. Mum . . .' She bit her bottom lip.

'What's the matter, love?'

'Remember Simon?'

'That lad who looked like he'd escaped from McFly?'

'That's the one.'

Now I started to worry. 'Why bring him up now? I thought that'd finished months ago.'

'Don't panic, Mum, we're not back together or anything. It's just that I never told you and Dad how sorry I was for all the trouble I gave you when we were seeing each other.'

'Gemma, you don't need to apologise for anything. Nobody knew Simon was going to turn out like he did - least of all you.'

'I know, Mum, but I did some childish things.'

'We all do now and again. It's a cliché but we learn by those experiences. It's part of the process of growing up. Dad and I just want you to be happy and safe.'

'Oh, thanks Mum,' she said, giving me a hug.

I could feel a lump rising in my throat. I tried to speak but the words wouldn't come out. Gemma broke the tension.

'Mum, I'll be leaving in a few weeks and there're loads of things I need to buy.'

I found my voice again. 'Such as?'

'Clothes, for a start,' she looked at me sideways. 'I also need some of the books on my reading list. Oh and my hairdryer's not working properly. I'll need another one.'

'We could do some shopping together - that's if you don't mind having your Mum along. You're going to need some bedding, too, and a suitcase.'

'I forgot about that, Mum. Oh yes, and Dad said he'd buy me a new 'phone.'

'You've got your Dad twisted round your little finger, young lady.'

'I know,' said Gemma. 'I don't think he minds, though.' Her eyes looked watery as she turned away from me.

I'd made up my mind: this Mum wasn't going to cry when it was time for Gemma to leave home and start her new life on her own. Of course I'd miss my only child - that was natural. After all, during the past eighteen years Ray and I had concentrated on supplying her every need, which included piano lessons and transporting her to various after-school activities. She'd also recently passed her driving test with the help of extra tuition from Ray in his spare time.

I'd been gearing up for the past few weeks for this day and, when it finally arrived, I felt quite upbeat about it. My best friend, Alison, had been through all this last year when her boy - actually at six foot three I should be calling him a young man - went off to dental school. Alison said it was called 'empty nest syndrome' and I suppose it's how you feel when your kids have flown the nest, metaphorically speaking. She told me how it was for her and gave me good advice, so I knew a little about how I might feel when Gemma left. Not everyone feels the same but it doesn't do any harm to start preparing yourself mentally for when the time comes.

It was a struggle to squeeze all Gemma's stuff into the car but we managed it somehow. I gave her a batch of her favourite chocolate brownies to share with her new friends once she'd settled in.

'Mum, you're a star. You make the scrummiest cakes in the world. I'm gonna miss you loads.' She screwed up her forehead as she popped the foil-wrapped brownies in her holdall.

'Dad.' Gemma tapped Ray on the shoulder. 'Where've you put my keyboard?'

'Don't worry, flower, it's in the boot. Oh, yes, and I've put your teddy in too. You'd left it lying on your bed.'

'Dad, you're such a softy,' said Gemma, giving him a peck on the cheek. 'I love you, Dad.'

Ray turned away then and got into the driver's seat. 'Now come on Gem, get in the car. Dad's waiting to get going and we don't know what the traffic'll be like, do we?'


The journey passed without any hiccups. Ray and I saw that Gemma had something to eat and had settled into her room before we said our farewells. We made smalltalk on the journey back in the car. Ray seemed rather distant.

'Are you OK, Ray? You look a bit pale.'

'I'm fine, love. Just a bit tired.'

'Why don't you have a relaxing bath when we get home and an early night? You'll feel better for it.'

'I think I will.'

It felt unusually quiet when we arrived home: no CDs blaring, no keyboard practice, no chattering in the background - just silence. Ray went up for a bath straight away. I went into Gemma's bedroom and stripped the bed. There was a coffee stain on the carpet she'd forgotten to mention in her rush to leave. I smelt her perfume in the air and it was like she was still in the room.

She'd left her Winnie-the-Pooh alarm clock on the bedside table. Its ticking echoed round the room. The poster of Paolo Nutini smiled down at me from above her bed. Our daughter was starting a new stage in her life today. So were Ray and I.

I must have spent about half an hour sitting in Gemma's bedroom, thinking, going over old times in my head. Then I remembered Ray. He'd been an awfully long time in the bath.

'Ray, Ray.' I knocked on the bathroom door. 'Are you all right, Ray?' I put my head round the door.

'I ...' Ray wiped away some tears. Did he think I hadn't seen them? His bloodshot eyes told the story. 'I was thinking about Gem, that's all.'

'Ray, darling. Gem will be just fine, you know that, don't you?'

'My little girl's gone.' The words caught in his throat.

'She's starting a new life, Ray. It's time for her to be independent.'

'I know, Jane.' His voice faltered. 'But I'm going to miss her so much.'

'So will I, Ray, but she'll come home in the holidays and she's promised to phone home regularly.'

'I guess so.'

'Yes, of course, Ray,' I said as I kissed his forehead. He stopped crying then. 'And just think - we'll have time for us to enjoy. We can do things we've wanted to do for ages, such as going to classes to learn Italian for our holidays and catching up with jobs in the garden and the house. You've been dying to play golf, haven't you?'

'Jane, slow down. I need time to adjust to not having Gem around.'

'That's right, you do darling. I've been getting myself used to the idea recently but I suppose you've been so busy working, you haven't had time to think too much about it.'

'Yes, I think you're right, Jane. Her leaving's almost taken me by surprise. I need time to take it in.'

'We'll help each other, love. It's a new start for us as well as her.'

'Won't it be strange, Jane?'

'How do you mean 'strange'?'

'Well, we haven't been on our own together in this house for eighteen years. Remember when we moved in? You were pregnant.'

'That's right. We'll have to get used to just the two of us again. It'll be fun - you'll see.'

'Yes. At least we'll have the bathroom back. She's been spending ages in there recently before going into town.'

'Too right. We'll save loads on laundry liquid, too - all that washing's her business now.'

'Unless she brings it back with her in the holidays.'

'There's always that possibility. I can't wait to see.'


Gemma came home for the weekend about the middle of November. The washing came too. But Ray and I weren't bothered about that - we were simply overjoyed to have our daughter back again and to find out how she'd been getting on. It was nice to hear, in a way, that she'd been a little homesick at first - it made us feel appreciated - but we were pleased how easily she'd settled and made friends. Her course kept her busy but she had plenty of time to socialise, play the keyboard - and shop, even if it was only window-shopping.

That weekend passed like a whirlwind. We met up with Grandmas and Grandpas and had a lovely family meal which Gemma helped to make. She had turned into a decent cook. Afterwards, we had a sing-song to Gemma's accompaniment at the piano. We hadn't stayed up so late in weeks.

Gemma returned to uni the next day, with the recipe for the chocolate brownies which she was going to bake herself this time, the cakes having been such a hit with her friends.

'See you for Christmas,' she called as she collected her clean washing, the rest of her belongings, shut the car door and ran to catch the train.

'Bye, love,' we shouted after her as she disappeared into the crowd.

'Phew, I'm worn out,' said Ray.

'You're worn out? Look, we need to tidy that back garden while the weather's still fine. Let's stop off at the garden centre on the way home and buy some shrubs.'

'Actually, that sounds like a good idea. Something that'll flower in the spring would be nice.'