It’s abundantly clear that I absolutely love the empty nest, and their is no syndrome being felt inside this Stepdad. It almost feels like vacation, because the days seem like 12 hours long and I if I could miniaturize myself I would be pulling back the minute hand counter clockwise just to be able to savor the time in a big uncrowded house. I have sent resentment to the garage where it will hopefully wither and die. I pray that my 70 day respite softens my hardening heart. I know the immigrants will back to thin my blood, but in the interim my pulse is slow and my blood pressure leaves me dizzy each time I rise from my deep slumber. I don’t think my vital signs have ever been this perfect, and each day serenity spells peace and quiet.
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