How to fill an empty nest? Beach volleyballs, of course.

When people ask me how I’m doing without the kids at home I say the biggest change is that living in my home no longer feels like a performance-art piece about good parenting. Otherwise, a lot is the same: I still worry about being able to function in the world like other adults, and I still worry that my kids will feel alienated in the world because their mom is so unpredictable.

One of my coaching clients is a recovering alcoholic. She tells me about the power and confidence she felt when she was drinking and how much she misses that. I wonder about my own power and confidence. I thought it would come back when my kids left for school.

Instead I tell Nino, “I’m not a person who should live alone. I stay up until the sun rises. I eat the same thing every meal. I spend all day hoping our kids will call.”

Nino points out that I just missed two calls from our kids. Then he says, “Is there anything I can help you with right now?”

I know he doesn’t want to live together. I’m trying to be happy with what people can give ?instead of always asking for more. I say, “I’m happy that you’re going to keep the schedule of coming to my apartment even though the kids aren’t here. That’s nice.”

The first few times he comes over I make dinner for us and I cry.

I ask him if he’s been crying.

He says he thinks he got his crying out ten years ago when we got divorced . He said he cried each time he had to say goodbye to the kids.

I say, “What? You did that? Then why did we have to get a divorce? No one wanted the divorce, not even you.”

He says, “I’m not talking about it. It’s not helpful now.”

We have a month of firsts: The first time he hung out at my apartment all day even though we were not really doing anything and there were no kids. The first time he came over at an unscheduled time just to talk. The first time he sat next to me on the train even though there were seats that would have allowed him to not touch me.

Then there was the first time I told myself it’s okay for me to be close to him. I told myself there are no rules for empty nests except that each of us has to fill our nest somehow.

On Saturday morning I arrange to be part of a foursome to play beach volleyball. I ask Nino if he’ll come with me.

He asks why I need him to go. He says, “Are you worried you’re going to get hurt? Do people play when they’re as old as you are?”

“I think these people are so bad that it won’t matter how old I am. But I want you to come in case I’m wrong.”

It feels so familiar sitting with Nino waiting for my game on the side of the court. This is where we started: I was his pro beach volleyball girlfriend .

Today I play one game on the sand and I’m so tired I feel like I’m not even in my own body. My skills are much better than everyone else’s, but my body forgot how to run on the beach. I leave early and hope no one will remember how tired I was. Because I want to come back next week.

On the train home Nino shows me pictures he took that make me look confident and powerful.

I hear a girl near us say to her friend, “I applied everywhere!!! I’m just waiting to hear back. I’m just so excited for something to work out!”

I used to be like that. I’d send my ideas everywhere. I was all about persistence and odds. And I basked in the feeling that I was surrounded by lottery tickets I conjured up myself.

I expected that I’d go back to being that sort of person after my kids grew up. But now that the time is here, it turns out that I already have winning tickets, I just need to appreciate the windfall.

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