Life Lessons

GOOD READ

Home alone

Eatlikeslobs? Yes. Walk around the house naked? Sure. Swear like sailors? Of course!After tearfully bidding good-bye to their college-bound kids, Ann Leary and her husband discovered that the empty-nest syndrome was,well, for the birds.

Photograph by Cavan Images

WHEN WEDROPPED ouroldestchild,Jack,atcollege for the first time,wewere allvery cheerywhile we unloaded the car. My husband, Denis; our daughter, Devin; and I helped Jack carry his stuff up to hisdorm room.We marveledatthe closetspace and groaned at the thinness of the mattress. Eventuallywe found ourselves looking around the room with forcedsmiles.

“Is that everything?” Denis and I said, over and over again. “Maybewe left something in the car. That can’t be everything.”We had arrived at the momentwe had dreaded, not just all summer but for the past 18years. Itwas time to say good-bye to our son’s childhood. “What aboutyourwinter jacket?Whataboutyour soap?”Icried. “Ifeellike

we forgot something.” But itwas all there—all the stuff of this boy. His guitar, his sneakers, his sheets and towels and shaving gear, his great sense of humor,hisoptimism,hisgraceandkindness,his intuitivewisdom, his big, generous heart.There it allwas.Therewas nothing else for us to do. Itwas time to go.

Twoyears later,we had to deliver Devin to her college.Again,I wasovercome withemotion when Irealizedthe momenthadarrived.Itwastime to say good-bye. “Why do I feel likewe forgot something?” I kept saying. “Let’s check the car one more time.” I remember sobbing aswe drove away. I remember Denis pulling the car over.After a few minutes, I said, “I’m OK.You can keep driving.” But he didn’t say anything. He didn’t start driving.

“You cango. I’mfine,”Isniffed.

Then I heard a strange sound, a loud hacking andchokingsoundcomingfromhis direction. I looked over and saw that the man had buried his face inhishandsandwasbawling likeababy.

“She just looked…sosmall,” he said, and I knew what he meant. Devin is on the tall side, but she looked so tiny andvulnerablewhen shewalked away from our car.There shewent, up those cold stone steps that led into that monstrous, Gothic-looking dormitory. There shewent,with her backpack and cell phone, herwisdom and humor, her quick, inquisitive mind, her sweet smile. Shewas bornwith anoldsoul,with anuncannyknowledge about people. She always loved animals and all fragile things. She could walk whenshe wasnine months old. Now shewas surrounded

About the author

Ann Leary’s latest novel, The Children, was published in May. She is also the author of the New York Times best-selling novel The Good House, as well as Outtakes From a Marriage and An Innocent, A Broad. She and her husband, Denis, live in northwestern Connecticut. by strangers.Why hadwe taught her towalk?Wedrove homesoslowly. We dreaded returning to our empty house, but eventually, of course,we werethere.

I watcheda Seinfeld rerun as I cooked our dinner that evening. My eyeswere swollen, and my nose raw from crying.When the mealwas ready, Denis shuffled into the kitchen andautomatically turned theTVoff. “Wait,” I said.And then Iuttered the words my husband hadwaited 20 years for me to say: “Let’swatchTV whileweeat.” Andthat’swhen thefunbegan.

In our home,while the children livedwith us, television had been banned during mealtime and on school nights.We had family dinners every night.Thiswas a time to talk to one another—to connect.That first night ofouremptynest,andevery night that followed, Denis and I didn’t ask about each other’s day or discuss current events. Instead,we laughed at theTVwith mouths full of food. We slouched over our plates and rested our elbows on the table.We atewith our fingers ifwe felt like it— andweusuallyfeltlikeit.When one of us needed the salt,we lurched across the table and grabbed itwithout asking for it to please be passed. We rolled our corn in the butter.We slurped the last drops of soup from our bowls.We still placed our napkins on our laps, but not because itwas polite; itwas becausewe made such a mess andwanted to protect ourclothes.

Thatwas just the beginning.Within days, our house became a sort of hedonist temple.We swore, not just byaccidentwhenslammingafinger in a drawer or stubbing a toe.We sworeallthetime.Oneday,I needed togetsomethingoutof thedryer,so Iventured out of our bedroom in my underwear.After I did my usual redfaced dash to the dryer, I stopped. Whywas I being stealthy?The people who reacted to my bodywith retchingsounds weregone. Theone who likedme inmy underwearwaschargingupthestairstogetacloserlook.

Before long,wewalked around our houseasnakedasjaybirds.Wehad sex whenever we wanted, wherever we wanted.Wesangloudly with music—ourmusic.Wedanced,not as if nobodywerewatching, but becausenobody was watching(and laughing).We gossiped about our friends, made fun of people’s accents or theway people dressed.Wewere

Our daughter was born with an old soul, withan uncanny knowledge about people. She could walk when she wasnine months old. Nowshe was surrounded by strangers. Why had we taught her to walk?

petty andclosed-mindedagain!Weweren’taware of how hard itwas being good, untilwe no longer hadtobegood.Ithadbeenexhausting.Nowwe were free.

I’m sure many people don’t alter their behavior muchwhen they become parents. I think those are peoplewho are naturally altruistic, conscientious, and polite.We’re not really like that. But for 20 longyearswe tried hard to act as ifwewere. Wewanted to set an example for our children—a good example. For instance,whenever I gossiped onthe phonewithmy sister,I’d have tochange the subject if my daughterwalked into the room. Itwasn’t just because I didn’twant her to hearwhat Iwassaying;Ididn’twanthertohearmesaying it. Because gossiping isn’t nice. Eventually it became easierto justnot gossipvery much.

Denis and I had to act like better people, and over time it became less of an act. Ifwe lost at tennis or Scrabblewhile playingwith the kids, Denis and I had to smile and congratulate thewinners instead of sulking and accusing each other of cheating, aswe had always done beforewe had children. Eventually, by pretendingwe were good sports,we became good sports. (Well, everything is relative.We tried—that’smypoint.)

During the two decades thatwe raised our kids, my husband and Iwere betterpeople.Weweren’tperfect,of course, butweworked at being the best peoplewe could be. Our two childrendeservedbetter than us—we knew this as soon as theywere born. Sowe workedhardatbeingbetter.NowI understand that thiswasn’t just good for our children; itwas good for us. But

I’m sure many people don’t alter their behavior much when they become parents. I think those arepeople who are naturally altruistic, conscientious, and polite. We’re not really like that.

itrequiredalotofwork.Sowe’rein semiretirement.When the kids come home tovisit,we put on our clothes, cleanup our language, and turn offthe TV during dinner.They knowwe swear like pirates and slouch around in our underwearwhen they’re not here.They know thatwe’re lazy, petty, and sloppy. Butwe try to rein it inwhen they’re here. It’s good for us to try to be good during thesevisits. Just for old times’ sake.Justforthe children.

WANT MORE? Watch Ann Leary in conversation with Real Simple’s editor, Kristin van Ogtrop, at realsimple.com/annleary. LIFE LESSONS ESSAY CONTEST: WHAT WAS THE MOST DRAMATIC CHANGE YOU EVER HAD TO MAKE?

Maybe you had to move cross-country after being relocated for a job, opening up new possibilities along with fears. Or maybe you needed to sell your house or leave an apartment before you expected to. How did that situation influence the rest of your life? If one unavoidable shift changed your world—for good and bad—in enduring ways, write it down and share it with Real Simple. Enter Real Simple’s ninth annual Life Lessons Essay Contest and you could have your essay published in Real Simple and receive a prize of $3,000.

Send your typed, doublespaced submission (1,500 words maximum, preferably in a Microsoft Word document) to lifelessons@ realsimple.com. Contest began at 12:01 A.M. EST on Monday, May 23, 2016, and runs through 11:50 P.M. EST on Monday, September 19, 2016. All submitted essays must be nonfiction. Open to legal residents of the United States age 19 or older at time of entry. Void where prohibited by law. (Entries will not be returned.)

Go to realsimple.com/ lifelessonscontest for complete contest rules and to read the winning essays from last year’s contest.