Although it’s mid-morning, it could be the middle of the night here. The dogs sleep (thankfully for Shay, who spent hours pacing clickity-click around the house). The kids still sleep in their beds too. The fire in the stove hum-roars its warmth. The hidden kitty dreams.
Within a day, we’ll be back to a three-person, many-animaled house after being a full-familied house for almost two weeks. Daniel left Wednesday for a 15-hour day of travel that entailed two car rides, two buses, a plane and a lot of waiting betwix and between while propping himself up with coffee. Natalie leaves tomorrow with pillow and blanket for a long northerly bus ride.
The menorahs are on the desk ready to be put away fro another year. The Christmas tree ornaments never made it to the light of day, mainly because we were sure Shay the dog would eat them. The snow surrounding us melts. The wind tips the empty hummingbird feeders. Our schedule will revert to regular, whatever that means, and there will be fewer dishes to wash but also fewer people to wash them.
It’s the quiet between now and then, and in this moment, I type while sitting in bed, dressed but blanketed too, watching the cars on the highway to the west and the up close cedars nodding their branches. In a moment, actually right now, the dog wakes and urges me to let him out, the cat jumps down from the top of a closet shelf, and it’s time to step into the life that’s never in between.