Today is momentous for several reasons, the first being the 11th birthday of my middle son, and the second being that I am at my mom's house and haven't had to do a diddly darn thing all day. I like both parts so much that I can't decide which is my favorite. I suppose that not cooking and cleaning rank pretty high, but I sure do love Reag and I was glad when he joined the world.
I was lying in bed, in my cozy, white bedroom, nestled high in the rafters of my mom and dad's lovely Victorian, smack dab in the middle of the afternoon, while my mother entertained my kids in the back yard. Relived of all my duties, I watched terrible daytime television and thought about things.
There is something about the feeling of coming home that never changes. Things taste and smell differently when you are home; the air is richer, simple things such as books, sheets, and plates seem to have more substance. Yet, I realize that each time I come home things are somewhat different, but it is still home. And I love it and the family that it contains. This week will be a much needed rest for soul and body. I am glad for home. Laters.
No comments:
Post a Comment