home again, home again... jiggety jig

My wake-up hour for the flight home yesterday was four am, an ungodly hour when bedtime was way past midnight. Our last movie together was Night at the Museum, which the kids insisted I had to see, because it was filmed in New York. Five of us were snuggled on the couch, the four children and me, sharing a huge bowl of popcorn, when the littlest, who was in his big sister's arms, decided he needed popcorn too, and began his eager crawl over arms and laps toward his goal. Nobody stopped him until he was in the bowl, and then only reluctantly. We were all convulsed with laughter as he proceeded to toss popcorn into the air, as well as stuff it into his own little mouth. He is a giggly baby, and his joy is infectious. I realized it was the first time I had relaxed enough to have fun with my grandchildren, rather than watching them have fun with each other. We made a mess, and their mom will be cleaning popcorn out of couch crevasses for months. She didn't seem to mind.

The trip home was relatively easy. Fatigue can either intensify or blur the inconveniences of life, and for me everything was blurred, a blessing. I lay down for a short nap after lunch and woke up at midnight. I looked at the clock (stupidly) and rolled over and went back to sleep. I was tired.

My house-full of sisters was tired as well... not enough hands to make the work light, they had declared today a rest day even before I arrived home. I accepted this blessing too, and am taking the day at a quiet pace.

I am catching up: on my email, on my backyard garden project, on reacquainting myself with the sisters I have missed, but have been out of mind for two weeks. This is my home now, these are my people, and I am glad to be here.