From My Lap To The World : An Empty Nester’s Musings

A mother's journey from nurturing her child closely to watching her grow into independence is both bittersweet and transformative. As her daughter explores the world, she learns to cherish their bond in new ways, balancing pride with an ache of letting go. Motherhood evolves, yet love remains steadfast.

Every time my daughter comes home for a few days, happiness fills my home. We slip back into our familiar rhythms: cooking together, laughing, and sharing stories only we know. We catch up on the small, ordinary details, binge-watch our favorite shows, “spill tea” (exchange gossip), and lean on each other for inspiration. For a short while, my world feels full again.

But when she returns to college, a quiet emptiness settles in. The house seems to hold onto her presence, reluctant to let go. I don’t feel like straightening the throw cushions she lounged on or smooth out the creases on the bed she slept in. I can still see her perched on the kitchen counter, animatedly talking while I flip her favorite dosas.

It’s in these little things that I feel her absence most. My arm misses her head resting in it as she drifts to sleep, blissfully free from life’s worries. Each goodbye leaves me with a bittersweet ache, knowing she’s out there chasing her dreams but leaving me just a bit of space to miss her.

True to her name Megha, this song would fit us:

She loves me deeply and trusts me with her heart. No matter how life pulls her in all directions, she’s grounded because of me. No matter where life takes her or whoever joins her journey, I’ll always be her steady moon, her constant guiding light. That much, I trust.

Even as she changes, she’s still my little girl when she’s home. She hugs me first thing in the morning, asks for her tea before her eyes are fully open. She still grumbles when I wake her—even if it is noon!! She curls up in my lap, asking me to massage her hair, savoring the simple meals I cook just for her. These quirks from her younger days fill my heart in ways words can’t fully capture.

Each goodbye reminds me that my days of her needing me in the same way are ending. The empty nest isn’t just a phase—it’s a profound shift, the end of one kind of motherhood and the beginning of another. I used to be her world, the place she came to for everything, but now I’m just one part of the larger world she’s exploring. And that’s exactly as it should be.

Each visit—and each goodbye—reminds me how my role is evolving. She’s creating her own life now, adding feathers to her cap and carving out her own place in the world. I beam with pride when she talks about her adventures, the risks she’s willing to take, the dreams she chases with conviction.  I’m awed by her boldness, yet there’s always a quiet pang of worry. Will she be safe? Is she happy? It’s a quiet fear, one I rarely voice, not wanting to cast my own hesitations over her freedom and convictions. Instead, I trust her judgment and lean on the values I instilled in her. She’s out there taking on the world, but the foundation we built together remains strong within her.

As she steps further into her life, I am learning to embrace the quiet she leaves behind. This journey of letting go has taught me the beauty of endings. This chapter of motherhood, the one where I was her world, has reached its close.

But as I step back, I see that this ending has made space for something new—a relationship built on mutual respect, trust, and love. This ending is not about loss but about transformation. Her childhood may be over – now we are just two women, connected deeply, yet allowing each other the freedom to grow.

She’s out there in the world, and I am here, her steady moon, always waiting, always watching.  I know she would always come back ‘home’. 

By Deepa Perumal

Deepa Perumal is a Management professional, and a passionate advocate for women’s empowerment. As a career mentor, entrepreneur, and multilingual author, she shares her insights through blogging and writing features on history, world cultures, travelogues and memoirs. Contact her at deepabperumal@gmail.com

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