They all leave today except for the Englishman, and the house will be quiet and haunted for a bit. In three weeks my boys come back for more flight traumas and adventures and Christmas will be upon us. I can't wait.
I have had no desire to go anywhere these last few days. The mall holds no lure for me. I am not panicking about buying stuff for Christmas. I (and pretty much everyone else I know) have enough stuff and more. The treasure of food, a warm house, healthy kids who feel free to invite their friends for holidays, knowing there will be chaos and mismatched plates and a warm welcome has already filled my heart to bursting. There was an insane game of Pictionary for eight last night and laughter that shook the walls. The idea of board games came from Son Number One, which surprised me. For once there were no noses in computers or audio cords streaming down necks. And when I gave up in exhaustion the game of "Lord of the Rings Risk" began and was going strong in the wee hours of the morning when I texted from upstairs to "keep it down, please". Who needs an X-Box when you've got this?
I will start Christmas caroling tonight, which is probably a good thing since I'll need a bit of cheering up with my echoing house. But what a privilege to be surrounded with all this wonderful noise for a few days. My dear friend Flanagan was describing my home years ago to a mutual friend who now lives in California and hasn't met my clan except through letters and photos and e-mails. He told her "If you scratch the walls in this house, the love oozes out." Martha Stewart, eat your heart out!