A Note from Jenn 💌

June 10, 2026 · Evening

Becoming an Empty Nester: The Rainy Day Memory That Made Me Miss Motherhood

An evening P.S. to the morning post — a quiet thought on rainy days, the chaos that was holy, and learning that the ordinary moments became the memories.

P.S. Evening Thought 🌙

A quieter note from later in the day — a P.S. to the morning post. Read the Summer House Reunion morning post here.

Hey you, it's me.

I am sitting here thinking.

It is raining today, June 10th, in Orlando.

From my sofa, I can hear kids outside playing in the rain, and just like that, I am not really sitting in my living room anymore.

I am back in Houston, Texas.

We had only lived there a few months. It was raining that day too, and there was a knock at the door. When I opened it, the little boy next door was standing there with his umbrella, asking if Marley could come outside and play.

I remember thinking about Sweet Home Alabama.

You know that kind of rain.

The kind that feels like childhood. The kind where nobody is worried about wet clothes, muddy shoes, soaked hair, or towels piling up by the door.

They played in the rain that day.

And I can still see it.

Isn't it strange how an ordinary sound can take you right back?

A laugh outside. Rain hitting the sidewalk. A knock at the door. Tiny feet running in and out like the house was just part of the adventure.

Have you ever had that happen?

You are sitting in the middle of an ordinary day, doing ordinary things, and something simple takes you straight back to a memory you did not know you were still holding.

I did not know how much I was going to miss those moments until now.

Now that I am standing on the edge of becoming an empty nester. Now that the house is getting quieter. Now that the years I thought would last forever somehow turned into a season I am learning to let go of.

I will miss the knock at the door. I will miss the kids playing in the rain. I will miss the towels left by the door from puddles outside. I will miss the backpacks, the shoes, the snacks disappearing, the noise, the questions, the chaos, and the feeling that my whole life was happening in the middle of everyone needing something at once.

I do not have many regrets in life, but I do wish I had slowed down time.

Or maybe I wish I had known that the chaos was holy while I was standing in the middle of it.

I miss being a mom in the everyday way.

Not the title, because I will always be their mom. I mean the daily rhythm of motherhood.

The lunches. The rides. The wet towels. The door opening and closing. The sound of kids outside. The ordinary moments that did not feel big until they became memories.

I was growing up with them.

I was young when I had my first child, and the truth is, I was learning, parenting, surviving, loving, and healing in real time while they were just growing.

I did the best I could with who I was at the time. I know that now.

Still, some days I wish I could go back for one rainy afternoon.

Not to change everything. Just to notice it more. To breathe it in. To stand at the door a little longer. To let the towels pile up. To let the laughter be enough.

So today I am asking you:

What will you miss most about the kids being little?

The noise? The toys? The bedtime stories? The sports bags? The car rides? The little voices calling your name?

Because I think sometimes midlife makes us grieve the versions of motherhood we were too tired to fully understand.

And maybe that is part of healing too.

To look back with tenderness. To tell the younger version of ourselves, You were doing better than you knew.

To let the rain bring the memory. To let the memory soften us.

And to keep becoming, even as the house gets quiet.

Silent to Spoken in becoming an empty nester. 🤍

Love,
Jenn

Write Jenn Back

What will you miss most about the kids being little? The noise? The toys? The bedtime stories? Tell me what an ordinary moment taught you was holy. Scroll down and write me back.

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