I approached my daughter’s bedroom door with extreme caution, turning the knob slowly with my eyes squeezed shut while holding my breath as if poisonous gases or rabid hyenas might burst through at any moment. When the gap was an inch wide, I peeked hesitantly into the dark space, not knowing what I would find …

After prolonging her stay in the family home in order to save money for nursing school, our youngest daughter, Lilly, packed up and moved into her own apartment last week. At age 24, Lilly was more than ready to end her protracted dependency on her parents and strike out in the world on her own.

During those extra years spent languishing in her high school bedroom bingeing on Netflix and polishing off bowls of pasta, cans of Parmesan cheese, boxes of crackers and 12-packs of sodas, Lilly took full advantage of the perks of living at home, which included free Wi-Fi, 800 television channels, a full refrigerator, a printer with ink and paper, occasional home-cooked meals and 24/7 staff (me) who handled laundry, cleaning, yard work and grocery shopping.

Lilly tried to maintain some semblance of adult independence while living at home by keeping an active social calendar. However, her devil-may-care lifestyle didn’t always harmonize with our doggedly routine habits, such as occasions when Lilly would invite friends over to drink our $20 bottles of wine and cook messy meals after midnight. Or the mornings when I couldn’t enter the shared upstairs bathroom because Lilly’s best friend slept over for the fourth night this week and was in the shower again.

So, Lilly’s belated bon voyage isn’t a sad occasion, despite the empty nest she is leaving behind. In fact, Lilly can’t wait to be far away (well, a 25-minute drive) from her parents’ prying eyes, where no one will interrupt her day with annoying questions like, “Where were you last night?” or “Who ate all the Cheez-Its?”

Furthermore, Lilly isn’t the only one needing her freedom. Francis and I look forward to empty nest living, with no eye rolling, an abundance of parmesan and a fully stocked wine rack. We eagerly await Lilly’s newfound maturity, which will happen as soon as she realizes that independent living requires a lot more than shopping for new comforters at TJ Maxx. After shouldering rent, utilities, laundry, groceries, gas, insurance, phone, internet, car maintenance, dusting, vacuuming, toilet cleaning, banking and filing tax returns, Lilly might run home longing for the comfort of a Netflix binge and a box of Froot Loops in her old high school bedroom.

But that ain’t happening.

… I flipped the overhead light on after entering Lilly’s bedroom, and gasped at the scene before me. The carpet was strewn with dirty socks, dog hair, wrappers, crumbs, hangers and unidentifiable debris. A droopy dead plant baked on the windowsill. The ceiling fan blades held a thick layer of dust. Mildewed fuzz lurked in the vents of the overused window air conditioner. White water rings from countless cans of soda marred the surfaces of the antique bedside tables. Discarded old shoes lay in the bottom of Lilly’s emptied closet. The overflowing trash can emitted a rancid odor. A quilt stained with tomato sauce and tropical punch lay crumpled on the bed.

As I began discarding, scrubbing and vacuuming the mess, I envisioned the possibilities for the space recently abandoned by my youngest child: A luxury guest room with generous pillows and terry cloth robes? A colorful craft area with paints, beads and a sewing machine? A sleek home gym with a treadmill and yoga mats? An airy meditation room with palm plants and a water feature? A cozy den with leather lounge chairs and a mini-fridge?

As I did with Lilly’s older brother and sister when I took over their rooms, I would, of course, erect a modest shrine honoring Lilly on a shelf, displaying her trophies, high school yearbooks, diplomas and such. But with Lilly out and on her own, the rest of the room would be painted, remodeled and transformed into whatever my heart desired.

As our children will soon come to understand, freedom and independence isn’t reserved for the young.

Read more at themeatandpotatoesoflife.com and in Lisa’s book, “The Meat and Potatoes of Life: My True Lit Com.” Email: meatandpotatoesoflife@gmail.com