I never realized how big our house is. It’s far too large for one person.
Earlier this week I took Squealer to spend a few days with his cousin Grace an hour away. Then Kadie, Scooter and Squealer left for the Gulf Coast on a mission trip with our church. They are going down to assist in the ongoing recovery effort from hurricanes that passed through years before.
When we compared our schedules a few months ago, Kadie expressed an interest in taking the girls on the mission trip. I want to get them involved in these activities at an early age and this one seems appropriate for an eleven and an eight year old. Squealer presented a problem, but PT Girl (Kadie’s Sister) and her husband Sully, agreed to keep Squealer locked away until everyone returns on Saturday.
Since I’m teaching this summer term, I couldn't go and that is why I'm left alone in a big, quiet house for the rest of the week.
Its odd that I can run the dishwasher once and that the sink stays clear for hours...I can walk barefooted down the hall and not impale my foot on a Sorry game piece...Washed clothes don’t spontaneously regenerate in the dirty clothes hamper only minutes later…I can take hot showers…For the first time in a few years, the Rangers don’t have to compete with Hannah Montana for attention on the television…
And yet…it’s hard not to get three hugs when I get home (or four if I can catch Squealer)...The only laughter I hear is my own as I read a funny joke (like this one)...I miss the completely rational (from a kid’s perspective) explanation for why there is—at this very moment as I discovered this morning—a plastic locket (from Skeeter’s necklace) inexplicably sitting next to the ice cube trays in our kitchen freezer.
So often our house seems barely big enough to hold the five of us. Its seams burst as it struggles to contain all the laughing, shoving, screaming, snuggling, frogging, loving, wrestling, feeding, weeping, zerbertting, praying, yelling, eating, spanking, chasing, hugging and living that goes on around here.
But this evening the little house seems huge and I am reminded again by the silence that a house isn’t a home.
Earlier this week I took Squealer to spend a few days with his cousin Grace an hour away. Then Kadie, Scooter and Squealer left for the Gulf Coast on a mission trip with our church. They are going down to assist in the ongoing recovery effort from hurricanes that passed through years before.
When we compared our schedules a few months ago, Kadie expressed an interest in taking the girls on the mission trip. I want to get them involved in these activities at an early age and this one seems appropriate for an eleven and an eight year old. Squealer presented a problem, but PT Girl (Kadie’s Sister) and her husband Sully, agreed to keep Squealer locked away until everyone returns on Saturday.
Since I’m teaching this summer term, I couldn't go and that is why I'm left alone in a big, quiet house for the rest of the week.
Its odd that I can run the dishwasher once and that the sink stays clear for hours...I can walk barefooted down the hall and not impale my foot on a Sorry game piece...Washed clothes don’t spontaneously regenerate in the dirty clothes hamper only minutes later…I can take hot showers…For the first time in a few years, the Rangers don’t have to compete with Hannah Montana for attention on the television…
And yet…it’s hard not to get three hugs when I get home (or four if I can catch Squealer)...The only laughter I hear is my own as I read a funny joke (like this one)...I miss the completely rational (from a kid’s perspective) explanation for why there is—at this very moment as I discovered this morning—a plastic locket (from Skeeter’s necklace) inexplicably sitting next to the ice cube trays in our kitchen freezer.
So often our house seems barely big enough to hold the five of us. Its seams burst as it struggles to contain all the laughing, shoving, screaming, snuggling, frogging, loving, wrestling, feeding, weeping, zerbertting, praying, yelling, eating, spanking, chasing, hugging and living that goes on around here.
But this evening the little house seems huge and I am reminded again by the silence that a house isn’t a home.
1 comment:
This made me misty. Nicely writ.
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