Break out the fine china (as though I had any)! Alert the media (oh, they do care)! Assemble the mariachi band! My children are returning home!!!
Ok, so my son has only been away for one month and my daughters about half of that but to me, it might as well been a decade. They are truly my life blood and without them around me I tend to wither just a bit.
My son arrives at dawn tomorrow and my girls within a few days, if not sooner. This has been the annual family camp week down near Sundre, an event I myself have attended about thirty years of my life, minus a year or two. It’s also been a huge part of my children’s lives so what better timing for at least Jeremy to be able to go with me for its final weekend.
I miss their voices. I miss their messes. I miss their joy. I miss their squabbles. I have always prided myself on running a tidy homestead but in their absence, I might be known to go into Lexis’s room and if not for a moment, bask in the chaos of the unkempt.
I miss their need of me. I am displaced without. I have no one to nurture, to care for or to give to. The quiet isn’t what I need. I much prefer the sounds of life, all around me, even interrupting a Saturday nap. I’d take that any day over these solitary days of silent monotony.
I am beyond blessed with those three and I don’t need their absence to remind me of that. I may forget alot but their importance will never be taken for granted.
Get home. Doing ones own dishes holds no challenge…