Guest bedroom or not?

I found this the other day when I was reasearching empty nest topics on line. Click on, it's pretty cute.
http://www.humorcolumnist.com/emptynest.htm

I was out with friends a few nights ago who are recent empty nesters like me. At one point, the topic of conversation turned to our recently flow children's bedrooms. One gal reported that she had painted the room a new color and gotten new curtains, and was toying with putting twin beds in the room, replacing the queen her child recently occupied. Another friend told how her son's room was now the ironing and storage room. She's thinking of converting it to a sewing/momcave-type room.
I applaud these girls!
I am stuck in the past. The last time I did my kids' room over was to paint it and get new linens when she was going into high school ( Do the math: she just graduated from college!) I am doing nothing to my daughter's room for a few reasons. 1. I'm leaving it along because I know she will still come home to visit and THAT is HER room. I dare not touch it at this point because it is still filled to the brim with HER stuff. And 2. I live in the never ending hope that she will come back to us, stay until she is married, and then go on with her life.
Pathetic, isn't it?!
I think this is the syndrome called "Only-One-Child-Mothers." We live in the hope and fanstasy that they will come back, still need us for love, support ( not financial!) laundry and meals, and stay until their destiny takes them away.
Is there another, stronger word for pathetic?
I left home pretty much at seventeen. I came back for just a few months after college to save some money for my own apartement and beleive me when I say I couldn't wait to leave again! Those few months took more of a toll on me than college!
But I had a goal to get out and be on my own again, just like when I left the first time. And I was on my own for 5 years before I got married. I know this is what I should want for my own daughter as well; that sense of total independence, answering to no one, and being able to live in the world successfully.
I know that in my head. It's the rest of me that isn't listening.
One day I will probably have a mom/cave. But I'm not counting the days until I do because I'd prefer to see a body sleeping under the purple comfortor.
And I don't mean the incontinent, Alzehimer kitty's body.