The morning nobody needs a ride
The first strange thing is the morning. Nobody needs a ride. Nobody needs a form signed or a lunch packed or an answer called up the stairs. You may have stood in the kitchen with your keys already in your hand before remembering there’s no one to take anywhere.
“My youngest just left for college. Who am I now that they don’t need me every day?” You put the word need right in the middle of that question. For years, being needed told you where to go next. It woke you up and pointed you at the day.
You were born with both the Sun and the Moon in Aries. Aries is the first sign, the one that moves before it stops to think, and with the Moon there too, your feelings have always wanted somewhere to go right away. A fever at midnight, a game across town, a forgotten permission slip: you were already in the car. All that fire had a job. The job got smaller. The fire didn’t.
So it comes out sideways. You reorganize a closet that was fine. You text them a little too often and then feel silly about it. Your mind says: “Get busy. Find something. Don’t just sit here.” Sitting still with nothing to push against is about the hardest thing you could ask of an Aries.
What if, under all that restlessness, there’s something you haven’t had time to feel? Not a new plan. Just missing them. The plain ache of a house that’s quieter than it used to be. A heart as quick as yours can run right past that ache and call it boredom.
If you want, close your eyes for a moment, let your hands rest palms down, and let your body be open. Feel your chest from the inside, with attention. Maybe it’s tight. Maybe it’s tender, or strangely full. You don’t have to do anything with it. If you want to stop, you stop.
You were someone before they needed you every day. She didn’t leave when they did. She’s been in this house the whole time, mostly in a hurry.