The children are resting, the dishes are done, I sit down for a second and breathe. The sun’s brightness grows and lessens as the clouds roll past far above the green grass and red brick of this town. It lights up my living room and the undercurrents of those far up breezes stir the curtains. I look around this eclectic crowded little room and realize it’s full of memories now. I realize it has imperceptibly slipped into the realm of the familiar. We’ve finally blown enough bubbles off the balcony. This is our home.
I’m probably just being nostalgic or sentimental because I’m going “home” on Monday, I think. Or because the Prodigies keep playing Paul McCartney’s “Yesterday” on the piano. Or because I’m sleep-deprived after a week of house guests and sick children. Why today? But I guess today’s as good as any day for feeling at home.