I knew how hard it would be to raise kids. Up until I said “Yes” to my husband’s marriage proposal, I had already decided not to have kids. I liked kids, and got a teaching credential because I liked teaching kids, but to take that work home with me was not on my agenda. The man I married changed my mind. He was able to convince me that not only would he be a great dad, but he would weather any storm our marriage went through. So far he has been right.

We had a son, then a daughter. Sleepless nights, five straight years of diapers changing, instantaneous decisions, homework, meals, laundry, friends, teams, vacations, life lessons–it was NOT easy and it did NOT fly by as many people say. We worked hard to ensure that our kids’ lives were the best they could be. The experience left me exhausted, as most parents would agree.

Throughout their childhood I did my best to keep my life in balance by having an occasional “date night” with my husband or spending time with friends for a weekly beach volleyball game, a hike in the mountains, a walk on the beach, or a movie. Where those friends are now I really don’t know. I was more often than not the one to initialize a get-together, and a lack of reciprocation gets old.

Our son is now 19 and a freshman in college; our daughter is 16 and a sophomore in high school. One month ago she received her driver’s license, and we’ve given her access to a vehicle. She’s pretty good about responding to my texts, but she needs me not. That is where Duke comes in.

Duke, our 5 year old labrador, came into our lives four years after Murray, our first lab, died. My husband enjoys duck hunting, and duck hunters like to avoid going out into the cold water to retrieve the dropped duck, so having a lab is key. Duke and my husband go duck hunting for a couple of days about three times a year.

For the rest of the year, when I am at home, Duke is within inches of me. I assume this is because two times a day I feed him, walk him, and play with him, none of which the others in my household do on any regular basis.  As I write this he is lying on the floor with a small part of his paw on my foot, and thank goodness for that, because the lonely feeling that creeps into my heart after my daughter and her friend thank me for dinner then head out into the night is real, but I look over at Duke and know he looks at me as if to say I am not alone. As happy as I am that the hardest parts of child rearing are over, I am alone. A lot. And it’s going to take some getting used to.

My mom and I take a walk a few times a week. She has been alone for a number of years, and I can finally relate to what part of her life has been like. Thankfully she is one of the most positive people I know. She constantly reminds me about how much the world has to offer and how good it can feel to continually educate oneself by going to museums, reading books, and in her case, as an artist, creating things. One of my passions is talking to people, and I’ve been lucky enough to have started working as a docent/storyteller/tour guide on a monthly vintage train car that goes from Santa Barbara to San Luis Obispo and back. That fills one day. And Duke is always happy to see me come home.