It’s good to be home – with too much laundry, too little food in the fridge and a whole lot of warm fuzzies in my heart for this remarkable family o’ mine. The delight of feeling cool air on my face, the awesome humility that one feels when looking at the silhouette of mountains which stand boldly reminding me of how inconsequential I am in the phenomenon known as the world.
Seeing the boys in the morning as they would arrive in the kitchen for coffee, still bearing a resemblance of the little guys they once were – hair messed, eyes puffy, faces still soft with sleep. Tender silence and soft chatter about the plans for the day. They’d go off to golf with Andy while the girls (women really, but everything is relative – pun intended) and I lagged behind, holding on to the morning without the requirement of tee times. A trip to the gym, a morning at the spa…blackberry picking and wine tasting, time for some reading and napping and talking.
Later in the day, I’d lie down in our room just to listen to the banter of these six amazing people, their laughter like music on the air. The back-and-forth of their teasing – relentless though it seems to me, a pleasure for them. We’re as dysfunctional as any other family – with regrets and memories that still itch under the skin – and love that can both soothe and singe. And when we parted with whispered “I love you s” there remains the unspoken comfort that wherever they go, we are all together regardless. Fiercely protective of each other, defending our family craziness with defiance and moving forward with the certainty that there will always, always be us. And I cry as always, for my body can’t hold all this love and there are no words to explain the tears. One will hug extra hard, one will tease me until I laugh and one will email me later to check in with the crazy woman they have for a mother.
“This is part of what a family is about, not just love. It’s knowing that your family will be there watching out for you. Nothing else will give you that. Not money. Not fame. Not work.” — Mitch Albom
And for my boys and their loves, for Andy – I love you all more than my heart can possibly hold. Welcome home.
Waiting for the Karma Truck 