Emptying the empty nest

I'm about to get rid of one of the last tangible pieces of evidence in my house associated with my children, the marimba.  

Both of my sons played mallet percussion throughout school.  They were really good, winning awards and honors, and playing in select bands and orchestras.  For several years we were allowed to keep one of the school's marimbas in our house for them to use to practice (sparingly....).  Then, another student who was about to graduate asked if we would be interested in buying his wooden, custom made, practice marimba.  Yes!  Soon we had this beautiful piece of musical furniture in our living room.  For about five or six years, until my youngest son graduated from high school, it was a permanent fixture. The boys learned duets and medleys and often they would pass by, pick up the mallets, and play a few bars of some piece before moving on.  Our whole living room was arranged around the placement of the piano and the marimba.

When I moved to Chicago there was nowhere for the marimba to go but with me.  There was a perfect nook in my condo where it was installed and has sat, mainly unused, for the past three years.  Whenever a boy was in the house, though, there would be music. Just as before, they would be drawn to the mallets, pick up the sticks, and play a snippet of some tune.  The plan had always been for the marimba to move to my older son's home, once he had one, and I anticipated the relief I would feel without it.

Well, now he does have a home with room and it is time to disassemble the instrument and move it.  And, I'm unexpectedly sad to see it go.  I don't play it. I barely dust it. It is large and limits my furniture arrangements.  But, with my younger son moved into his own place it is one of the last real tangible pieces of evidence I have of my children. There are no more piles of shoes by the door, backpacks and jackets strewn in the entry, Legos or HotWheels cars underfoot.  Kids don't live here anymore.

I'm guessing, like the bittersweet sending of a child off to college, that once it is gone I'll happily sweep and dust that corner, move some furniture around, and smile at my newfound space.

       (not my house, not my marimba!)