Home for the Weekend

Even though I will always miss the days our little family all lived under the same roof, I have begun to notice a few little silver linings to the empty nest cloud, and one of  them is that whenever one of the kids comes home for a visit, it feels like a holiday, even if it's just a plain old weekend in July.  You scurry around and get your work done, so you can relax and enjoy the visit.  You plan meals the visiting child especially likes.  You enjoy grocery shopping because it's fun to buy his favorite snacks again.  With a light heart, you change sheets, put out towels, and bake cookies.  When it gets close to his arrival time, you can't stop peeking out the window to see if he's pulling in the driveway.  The weekend passes in a blur of meals, games, laundry, and laughter.  In true holiday fashion, you eat too much and sleep too little. But then, all of a sudden, it's Sunday night.  He gathers up his stuff while you pack up leftovers to send back with him.  You walk him out to his car, slip him some money for gas and tolls, and remind him to drive carefully.  Then you wave until he's out of sight.  You go back in the house, missing him already and knowing you're going to have to get used to having him gone all over again.  You curl up with a good book and wait for the text telling you he made it home safe and sound.  When it comes, you count your many blessings and head for bed.  You fall asleep replaying the weekend in your head.  When you wake up Monday morning, the house is quiet, the holiday over.  You step back into everyday life, feeling both happy and sad, full and empty.  There's much work to be done, so you plunge in, but all day long in the back of your busy mind, you're daydreaming about the next visit.