I’m empty nesting. The popular mythology would have you and me and everyone who launched their kids believe that an empty nest is a dreadful and lonely transition. Menopause is supposed to be even worse. Once again, I have news. It feels good to sit with songs of crickets and autumn air circulating through the house. It’s not cold yet. I can leave the windows and doors open to nature’s night life. I have time to reflect, to write, and to play the fiddle tunes I’m learning on the banjo I bought at the start of the COVID-19 pandemic. I’m embracing the generous solitude this phase of my life offers. Life remains sweet.