A Visitor
There was the creak of the door in the utility room followed by a soft, high, “hello,” and I knew my daughter was in the house. A little early by my calculation, which had her coming in this afternoon after picking up her daughter at camp in Kerrville. Early is welcome even without warning, however, and she got a hug, and I told her I hadn’t thought about dinner, especially for two. She said that was alright, she had half a sandwich.
Her brother came over, my arborist son, who lives with me. They started talking and laughing and the next thing I know they were riding off on little motorcycles to go exploring around our little town. Then they were back and making dinner plans and the next thing I know they were off to pick up Mexican food which they brought home and we ate with some gusto, and we all decided the queso was really good.
Finally, they went out to swim in the pool, drink a beer or two, and be kids again even though they’re in their 40s, and I thought that was pretty fine. So, I let them be and sat and read my book, which is what I used to do anyhow, except now I don’t need to keep a weather ear out to make sure nothing happens to them. And as I got ready for bed, I thought how fine it was to have so much love baked into my life in the form of children and their children, especially when they keep coming home, even unannounced because they know they’re always welcome.
John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver's Tale