This weekend we turn back the clocks.  That means it will be lighter and brighter when I get home at night.  That means that springtime will be here soon and summer will follow, quickly, I hope, I hope.  I’m so ready to pack up the winter weather and pack up my winter clothes too.

It felt like spring as I walked into my daughter’s newly painted room tonight.  Her room is a warm, creamy buttercup yellow.  It screams sunshine.  Her room is void of furniture now that she is no longer a permanent resident.  I donated her old baby furniture before I moved.  It is time to get her a big girl bed.  She is about to turn 25.

It felt like a beautiful blue sky day as I walked into my son’s newly painted room.  His room is a bold  wedgewood blue color.  Since I count him as an occasional visitor as well, I am using his room as my temporary home office until I paint and decorate my new home office in my loft area.

“How are you doing?” I said to my son last week on the phone.  He is studying in Rome for the semester — such a lucky guy D is.

“I’m doing okay,” said D, “However, I’m concerned about the summer.”

“What’s the problem,”  I cautiously replied. “I thought you were going to be in NYC for the summer – taking classes and working part-time.”

“That was the plan,” said D, “but the classes are so expensive.  I don’t think I can afford to take summer classes in NYC.  I think I may have to come home.”

I love my son.  I love my empty nest.

“Really, come home?” I said.

I love my son.  I love my empty nest and the fridge that has a limited supply of food. And I love the fact that I don’t have to go food shopping every week if I don’t want to.

“Yeah,” said D, “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

I love my son.  I love my empty nest and my single (with a boyfriend) lifestyle.

“Really, come home?” I said again.

I love my son. I love my empty nest.  I love that I no longer have to  rush home to make dinner for my anyone.

“Really, come home?” I said one more time.

I love my son.  I love my empty nest.  I love having a clean bathroom where I can enjoy a leisurely bath whenever I desire and where I can use the toilet without having to worry about falling in because a certain someone forgot to put the seat back down.

“Really, come home?”  I said one last time.

I love my son.  I love my empty nest.  I like having electric bills that don’t make me cringe before I open them each month due to the extra costs from an extra someone who always leaves the lights on in every room he enters and exits.

I love my son.  He will turn 21 years old this May.

Will this empty nester and her 21 year old son be able to peacefully co-exist in the same household again?  Will she be able to relinquish her empty nest and allow a little birdie to creep back in for a four month stay?

Oh, the good ol’ summertime.