Walking through the city streets, kicking away the first fallen leaves I feel an aching nostalgia. Although we are in the midst of a global pandemic the streets around Holyrood are still busier than they have been for many months. Freshers have arrived and with them their families, all looking slightly apprehensive and crowding together in close knit groups. For most people, Spring is a time of new beginnings- the birth of lambs, the hatching of eggs and the first shoots of plants poking through the soil. For me, however, since the birth of our first child in mid August many years ago, September has been the real time of promise, despite the falling leaves and shortening days.
Initially it was the wonder of new life and the almost daily, incremental developments. A smile, grasping a finger for the first time, holding her head up. Not to mention the challenges of becoming a first time Mum at nearly forty. I learned how to distinguish between her different cries, developed the ability to doze off when she did and gradually we began to fit our needs around one another.
Twenty months later along came baby number two and from then on every September seemed a time of renewal. Life gathered momentum as they went to nursery and then school. Each year the items to be bought increased- shoes, shirts, trousers, stationery and the potential for worries grew. What if they didn't eat their lunch? Would they like their new teacher? How easily would they make friends? Had they made the right subject choices?
By the time the eldest started uni the worries were still there but flying the nest seemed to offer huge potential and excitement too. Meeting people from different backgrounds, with different accents and first languages, different outlooks on life. The opportunity to test themselves academically and socially, to try out different sports and interests. The excitement of Freshers Week was palpable, with family groups moving together tentatively, Dads joking and Mums trying to remain upbeat, only to collapse into tears once the final goodbyes had been said and they were safely back in the car.
Despite everything that has been written about the "empty nest", for me, it was still a time of great potential. Every year there would be a loading of the car and a moving of possessions to yet a different, often grottier student flat and a polite greeting of flatmates. Of course, mine were the only tears once the door was closed and we headed home. But regular texts, calls and messages kept you updated and crises of relationships, essay deadlines or exam stresses were handled.
Now that phase of my life is over, with both children settled in work and relationships. I glance with envy at the freshers and their families arriving in the city. So much potential! As the leaves fall and the freshers head back to their halls I feel a stab of regret. That phase of my life is over, and I wonder "What next?". Then I realise, I have a blank canvas and it’s up to me. What will this September bring?