The Room at The End of The House

Sometimes called the shop, it is outfitted with work benches and electrical outlets and task lighting. Even a vise on the corner of one of the benches. In the last few years, though, it has become a dumpground for whatever wasn't wanted elsewhere in the house. If we didn't know what to do with it, put it in the shop. Since we adopted Newton and Einstein five years ago, it has also become their bathroom. At least, it's the room where the litter boxes are. Mostly it has been the repository of fifteen years worth of broken things, the leftovers from Michael's electronic experiments, and odd containers of odd bits of hardware. In other words, the room at the end of the house was full. It could hold no more. Michael has been hard at work cleaning it up. Separating out what he would like to keep, a box of stuff for his Dad, a box of nasty, dead, and leaky batteries, and a whole lot of computer parts and electronic whatnot that can be recycled. I am nearly in a rapturous state at being able to see the floor! But I realize as the time draws nearer for Michael and Liz to begin their adventure of a new life together in Washington, that this cleaned up room is a milestone of sorts. Mostly it is Michael's mess in the room at the end of the house. And he's cleaning it up. Because that's what responsible grown-up type people do. Which is what he's become. This is the mother's struggle from the moment that bundle of joy is first in her arms. Proud that her child has learned well and matured and is more than ready to be on his own. And mourning just a little at the same time.