Outside, a soft cold rain is falling. Morning is coming ever so gently into the room. The sink is full of dishes. Leftovers are stored in the fridge. The granddaughter is drinking hot chocolate. The grandson is asleep on his pallet on the floor. The dog has done its morning duties. The house is quiet except for the oven warming for biscuits.

Hours earlier the house was full of noise. Adults sat around and talked while children ran and played. There were monsters, there were cats, there was all manner of creepy crawling creatures. There was growling and roaring. Chairs were rocked. Chairs were spun. Chairs were climbed. Hot chocolate was consumed. Gingerbread men were sent to their doom. Little Debbie’s Christmas trees got eaten.

It was the end of an evening that started with chili and greetings then proceeded to a walk through the park. We came into the open of the city just as the fireworks popped. The kids were thrilled. The adults were thrilled. Then we walked and talked and looked at lights. There was a slight scare when one of the children decided to play tag with new kids. We backtracked, gathered up the errant ward and walked on. Eventually, tired adults dragged behind bubbly children as it all ended, and we walked home. Now here we are. The guests are long departed and in a few minutes the biscuits will be ready.

John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregivers Tale