Week One
Here I sit in my second floor room in my daughter’s home looking out the window into their backyard. The house is quiet. I’m quiet. In a few moments, we’re getting close to seven a.m., the waking will start. The mother will come up the stairs and call the little ones to action. They will dress in the clothes they laid out the night before. They will eat a bite of breakfast. They will gather backpacks and lunches. I will take them to school.
I was planning on heading home today, but I think I’ll wait until morning. It’s fun hearing the kids come home from school, telling about their day, and telling how their after school activities went. And I’m expecting curtains for the French doors in my room, and they’ll need to be installed, and that makes me feel useful, which is always nice. Then later this evening it will be family movie night. Good times.
Of course, this is one of those missing you times, too. I find it nearly impossible to stop thinking about how much my late wife would have reveled in all of this. The kids. School. Housework. Lending a hand. But that’s the melancholy bit. I’m here. The kids are happy. My daughter went to visit a friend last night while I put the kids to bed, and in just a bit we’ll get into the car and off to school we’ll go.