The surreal silence of an empty nest

As per Anaïs Nin, I believe only in the intoxication of other people. Silly me. As if that kind of high can ever last. As if people don't come and go. We're in late summer, a time of farewells, broken hearts and parental pangs. Ran into a dad the other morning who said his wife was taking their daughter off to start college while he stayed home to mind the younger one. At that particular moment, his wife and daughter were stuck in Terminal 3 at LAX, vast purgatory of collegiate goodbyes. Mom and daughter may never make it. The way LAX works, or doesn't work, they could easily spend the next four years waiting for their flight to North Carolina. The least that lousy...