Right on time, they were gone today when I returned from Weeding For Dollars. I did take a couple of photographs this morning, before I left. I didn't get up on the ladder to look for the third chick. I just assumed it was in there, but maybe not. These two characters were looking out for their mother, and perhaps their sibling as it may have left earlier in the day. We have our kitchen door back, so David can take the trash out as an anniversary gift. Tomorrow, we will have been married for eight years. It does not seem possible anymore than it seems possible that the nest is finally, really empty. After my son went back to Colorado, it took me three weeks to straighten up the slip cover on the sofa. Each time I went to do it, I could see him sprawled out there and I couldn't erase that image with tidiness. My darling daughter left this summer, too. A few weeks before she moved to New Jersey, she left a message on the wipe board in the kitchen. It's been almost two months, and the message is still there. I haven't been able to bring myself to remove it, like the slip cover. And yes, I keep their answering machine messages, too. What are any of us besides the impressions that we leave behind? The indentation of a body on a sofa, a hastily scrawled note, a voice mail - or an empty nest, literally. Some people leave huge impressions in the form of art, writing, recorded music, political offices and more. Some, just a dent in the couch which to the mother, means everything. I can hear Clarise chirping from the woods. I can hear the slightly frantic note in her calls. I'm sure her youngsters are out there and that she's saying, "Be careful! Drive safely! Wear a helmet! Floss daily!" I hope I left them with a good impression.



