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ReflectionLifestyle

Do Jews ever become empty nesters?

I love my kids desperately but I also quite like silence.
Kerri Sackville
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Published: 5 May 2026

Last updated: 5 May 2026

Since my youngest child finished school last year, I’ve been fantasising about becoming an empty nester.  

I know there are plenty of parents who dread the empty nest, who want to keep their adult babies close indefinitely. I am not one of them. After three kids and 26 years of parenting – half as a single mother – I am quite looking forward to it. I still have two kids at home and I love them desperately, but I also quite like silence. 

When both my younger kids were overseas at the same time recently, I missed them, yes, but I also relished the peace. I napped on the couch undisturbed. I ate noodle cups every night for dinner. And when I tidied the house, went out, and then returned home, the house was still tidy.  

Absolutely incredible. 

But as a Jewish mother of three, am I going to become an empty nester anytime soon? Highly unlikely. Firstly, it is becoming increasingly common for adult kids to live with their parents until their mid- to late-twenties, and even beyond.  

Now, moving out is expensive, and rent can be prohibitive. Still, I know many young Jewish adults who actually could afford to leave the nest, but who just don’t want to. Life is way too comfy at home. 

Besides, even when Jewish young adults do move out, they often don’t go very far. Sure, there are Jewish empty nesters who speak to their kids only rarely, and when my son was living overseas, I was one of them. (In fact, we communicated primarily by text, with me sending frequent long messages, and him acknowledging his receipt with a single emoji.) 

But he is back now, and only a few suburbs away, and we are in touch nearly every day. And if he has any sort of problem – from a broken printer to questionable leftovers to an issue with a friend - I will learn about it as it happens, and be called upon to offer a solution.  

Even on the weeks we don’t speak much, my son will come home for Shabbat dinner. (Like many young adult Jews, he will leave the house with food parcels, because it breaks my heart and his grandmother’s heart to know he has empty space in his fridge.)  

Shabbat dinners are enforced family reunions, every week, for the rest of our lives. No wonder so many of us are disenfranchised from all the hype surrounding Christmas. A special festive meal at which tensions rise as adult children return home?  

Please. We do it every seven days. 

I have one child living out of home, but even if I eventually achieve the trifecta, I doubt it will offer the freedom I crave. An empty house implies a sort of carefree liberation, an end to the day-to-day worries about the kids. And this is something I cannot even fathom. 

My kids, though technically adults, are still always in the forefront of my mind. I track my two younger kids on apps (for my peace more than their actual safety) and check messaging services to see when my son has last logged on. (Okay, I think, he was online an hour ago, so he’s probably – hopefully –still alive.) And I still worry, constantly, about the wellbeing of all three. Are they happy, I wonder? Are their friendships going well? Are they safe and hydrated? Are they progressing nicely at work? 

I doubt this will change, even when they are all well and truly out of my home. I doubt it because my parents have been empty nesters for 35 years and they still worry about me constantly (although now they get the added bonus of also worrying about my kids). 

As much as I fantasize about an empty nest, it may, indeed, be an unattainable dream. Sure, the physical nest may one day be vacated, but the nest in my mind will never be. I will be parenting my kids until I am old and doddery, until they are also parenting me. 

No matter how old they get, I will never say goodbye. I will just say, “Speak to you tomorrow.” 

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About the author

Kerri Sackville

Kerri Sackville

Kerri Sackville has been a columnist for Sunday Life magazine, Sydney Morning Herald and Melbourne Age. She is the author of five books including The Secret Life of You: How a bit of alone time can change your life, relationships, and maybe the world.