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Years ago barn swallows built nests on top of the brick columns on our back porch. It is a cozy place to nest, sheltered from the sun and wind and rain. The nests are unoccupied much of the year, but one spring day when I have all but forgotten about them the birds fly in, clean out the nests, repair any damage, and add fresh, fluffy bedding to ready each nest to welcome a family.

A couple of weeks later the birds start taking turns sitting on the nest. After a few more weeks the first scrawny head peaks over the edge of the nest. Typically there are about five little hatchlings. The baby birds are quiet when the parents are away, but screech piteously when a parent flies back with a meal of tasty insects.

Eventually the baby birds outgrow their featherless scrawniness and get plump and cute. When it is time to learn to fly, the biggest, bravest little bird hops tentatively to the edge of the nest. The first flight is a short trip to the ceiling fan, about five feet away. Sometimes the bird doesn’t make it and flutters to the ground, flopping around in the shrubbery awhile, stretching its wings before making another attempt.

Before long the smallest bird sits on the edge of the nest, watching the others fly by or congregate on the ceiling fan. He leaps into the air, flaps his tiny wings, and is aloft. For a few weeks the small birds return to the nest to sleep. Then one day in midsummer the swallows are gone.

Today my last bird left the nest. Not the swallows; they left earlier in the summer. Today I dropped off my youngest child at the airport. He graduated from college a few months ago and is embarking on the adventure of his adult life. It is a distinct moment for a parent when the last bird leaves the nest.

The intensity of parenting is over. No more waking during the night to feed a baby or to be sure a teenager made it home. No more flag football games at the YMCA or swim meets, where the greatest excitement comes from figuring out which red bathing cap belongs to your child. No more tuition, fees, books, housing, and meal plans.

Much of what I worried about as a parent did not come to pass. Every child learned to roll over, talk, and walk. None of the children choked in infancy, drowned while learning to swim, or got electrocuted putting a key in the light socket. I want to remember this for the next phase of my life, to spend less time worrying about things that are unlikely to happen.

It is a relief to no longer be responsible for the lives of children. I have so much more free time. There is less demand on our family income with all the college expenses behind us and no kids on the car insurance or the cell phone plan. I am able to take time off work to learn new things and do things I enjoy. For instance, I have the time and money to travel to visit my sister next week.

Raising a family has been a long and satisfying road. Our grown children have crafted worthy lives, based on their distinct personalities and preferences. As I take a moment to pause, catch my breath, and reflect, I find I am proud of them all.

I stand on the threshold of a new time of life. This new stage comes with more freedom than I have had in a long time, but in this moment of transition, when I hug my son goodbye at the airport and climb back into the truck to drive home, there are tears on my face.

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