For the past few months, a dining room table has loomed over the coffee table in our living room, creating an oddly oppressive atmosphere. Soon, it will vanish, as my oldest son prepares to leave home for what feels like the final time. This marks his third or fourth departure, depending on whether you count university—a moment that brought tears as I struggled to enter my car registration in a blurry-eyed state.
Previous Departures and Returns
In 2018, he left on a snowy night in a taxi, only to return in 2019 and stay through the pandemic. The last time he moved out, I drove him and his belongings across London in a hired van. Two years later, I picked him up with just one car trip needed, his possessions having dwindled. I grew accustomed to the idea that he would always come back eventually.
A More Permanent Move
This time, however, the move seems definitive. He is moving in with his girlfriend, and they have already purchased items like a dining room table. Boxes arrive daily but remain unopened, as they are not staying. Among them are new pots, pans, plates, bowls, and likely an air fryer.
With his imminent departure, stalled projects are suddenly progressing. The restoration of the partially caved-in ceiling in his bedroom, damaged by a roof leak fixed in September, has been on hold until he vacates the premises.
Home Improvement Challenges
My wife texted Mark, our builder, whom she nicknames Mark No Problem for his straightforward approach. She asked if he could start on the ceiling, to which he replied, "No problem." I, however, foresee many issues, given our backlog of repairs.
For instance, there is the collapsing garden structure out back, whose repair has been delayed partly because I refuse to utter its name. When my wife pressed, I described it as "the outdoor skeleton room" or "the climbing frame for plants." She exasperatedly said, "Just say pergola." I retorted, "I'd rather die," but admitted the wood around the bolts has rotted, making it unsafe. Mark is visiting on Friday, and I will have to explain the problem myself.
Final Evenings Together
That evening, after my wife went to bed, my son and I sat down to watch television as usual. I asked about his move, and he said he could pick up the keys tomorrow after five, with a van coming the next day. For the first time, I played no part in his moving process.
We watched in silence, occasionally checking our phones. He then asked, "What are we gonna do about Deadwood?" We have been working through the classic western epic, still on series one with two more to go. I suggested trying to finish it in two days or watching separately while video calling, but he doubted we could stay in sync.
I did not voice my thoughts: we could watch it alone and discuss it at Christmas. Nor did I admit that without him here, I might never watch another episode of Deadwood again.
