This year I became an empty nester. Well, for four teary months anyway. The short version is this…
By design the Ready Communities program and our national conference, Social Impact in the Regions is based in a different community each year. While the first two years were practically in my backyard: Coffs Harbour and Kempsey (NSW), in 2025 we knew it was time to set up shop just a little further from home and when we settled on the gorgeous town of Grafton (still NSW) I was delighted. Not too far, somewhere I kind of knew and surely some familiar faces, places and ideas.
Right?
Kind of. When the lessons on moderation were handed out (wherever that may have happened) I was clearly not present. 2025 had already presented an interesting invitation to me, empty nesting. And given none of my kids were keen on maintaining our family (pretend) farm, after trying out a range of different ways to share the space I decided to call it quits. I filed our five bedroom, five acre property away in skip bins, marketplace and a storage bay and took the things that would match my new minimalist (if you know me it’s OK to laugh here) lifestyle, purchased an apartment and actually moved to Grafton.
The change was so fast, and the weight of the decluttering / culling so heavy that in my haze it took some weeks to understand exactly what had been achieved. I came to in the aisles of Aldi, tears rolling down my face as I realised I no longer needed to put the cat or dog food or the kids favourite things in the trolley.
Empty nesting, as I realised I was now doing I decided thoroughly sucked.
So I did what I do. I put my head down and I worked until it didn’t hurt anymore.
But there was something along the way that snagged my desired and ultimate reality. It was the conversations. The coming together.
Despite my ultimately hasty move I had been preparing for the empty nest for quite a few years. I had some thoughts on what it could be like and a few plans up my sleeve. Still, frankly, I was shit scared.
I worried about what it would be like if it was 2am and I got lonely, I worried about what could happen if I had an accident, I worried that it could be forever.
And then I started to meet my neighbours. First the lady downstairs. Early 70s, very unwell and yet somehow still willing to offer a kind word and a bit of banter at any time. The 95 year old lady across the way who asked curious questions about my origins and intent and punctuated each conversation with a blessing from god. Both women told me two sentences in that they were so lonely. I realised in that moment that despite the stark differences in our ages and life experiences we had a common need. Connection.
I set up a simple BBQ with the neighbours. We all brought something and sat together for an afternoon of stories and connecting. They told me it hadn’t happened before. With very little in common we connected and on that afternoon the ache of loneliness eased just a little.
Along the way I realised I’m a tourist in the stakes of being alone. I’ve chosen this pathway and I have an opt out clause, my family. But I wasn’t quite so aware of it then. I also realised the gift of work, particularly having a job that enabled me to connect locally.
In doing so I realised just how lucky I am. And that in that luck comes responsibility to serve. Not just in my work but as a human connecting with other humans. Yes. It takes time. Yes. It may be inconvenient, annoying, time consuming. But goodness me it matters.
My life is defined by sprints and lulls. When I’m sprinting there’s no way that anyone (well, most) will catch up with me. I’m on the run, the things get done and good luck if you get in the way.
But then in the lulls, the times where the deadlines are more flexible, the urgency button is off. That’s the time I make sure I make time. Time to connect with family, friends, colleagues, myself and time to sit down and yarn as I did with the lady downstairs this afternoon.
She isn’t well. I let her talk. I asked her questions about her life and enjoyed listening to her stories. I know absolutely nothing of her life experiences and as we speak feel incredibly privileged about mine. But she doesn’t judge. She provides compliments, kind thoughts. I’m tempted to step in, to pay, to rescue and I remind myself that this, connection has zero to do with cash. It’s about time, about sharing and about finding a common space. And somewhere in this conversation I felt my own heart just a little happier through the human connection.
Tomorrow night I’ll return to my new home, where my daughters live now with their partners and I’ll remember these conversations and embed them close to my heart reminding myself of the important lessons the lady from downstairs has taught me about building community. Sometimes the work is one to many, but more importantly it is one to one.
A bit about me
My first book, Spiralling Up: A guide for accidental leaders is available here. To learn more about my community and economic development work with Dr Chad Renando learn about Ready Communities here. To learn more about our national conference, Social Impact in the Regions look here. To book me for a speaker or MC gig visit this link.
