It was shockingly quiet here in the house all week, just me and Lucy the dog. I hardly went out, since I was pretty ill most of the time. My parents dropped by to check on me, walk the dog, and drop off food from time to time. But I spent the week—largely feeling content and by my own choice—mostly alone.
This afternoon my wife and two daughters returned from Victoria, where she had been attending a conference, pulling up in the car close to 3 p.m.
The transformation was instantaneous. Kids arguing, laundry flying, puppy barking, snacks inhaled, sudden clutter making magical appearances here and there. Air and I exchanged a few glances: she'd been dealing with this type of chaos by herself for six days and nights.
I had woken up mysteriously early this morning, and Air was tired after an early morning and the drive and ferry, so we crashed out for a nap while the kids played and watched TV. Despite the continued noise (even Lucy decided to chomp on a squeaky toy while lying between us), I had a smile on my face. It's better when the house is full.
I'm sure I'll tire of the hullabaloo soon enough, but not today.
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Beauty. :)
Good grief you write well! Though I always have mixed feelings when I start to read one of your posts. Will it be a post about how you have had a good day or will it be about how you have taken a turn for the worse? And if you don't write for a longer period of time, does that mean you have gotten really bad? A little nervewracking to read actually, but as I say, you write so well that one is compelled to read.