…was always the phrase heard around the house, in the days when family would come in droves for a hearty meal, laughs and plenty of ping-poing. This year's gathering was a fairly quiet, albeit very nice Thanksgiving celebration with grandmas, pickled herring, trimmings, tea, pie, [me passing out on the couch for several hours]. and a hefty game of Balderdash.
Backing up: I jumped on the train at roughly 4 a.m. and arrived in Minot just after 9:30 this morn. Every seat was full with college students (with the same travel dilemma as me) and families on their way to their respective turkey get-togethers. The vibe was largely anticipatory and I was happy to see Mom, grab coffee, and go home to shower.
So what's changed? For one, there is a significant thing missing from home: Willow.
I mentioned that our faithful canine passed on in September, and while her death came as no surprise, it was and still is sad. In her vibrant years she'd come running—barking—to the door when I came home from school. As she aged and grew tired, the greeting came slower—but she was still there to say hello. Now that she's gone, there's only a feeling to latch on to at the door: the void of a bark, something to pet, someone to lick your face unconditionally. In a word, it's weird.
Otherwise there are little home improvements here and there, new beds and bed-swapping (my 24 year old brother decided it was time to move on from the twin bed he'd been sleeping in since 1998) and of course, the perpetual practice of forcing myself out of "my room" (which no longer feels like my room). Brothers seem to have new facial hair and/or bellies garnered from college and office life, Dad's little projects are sprawled about, and there seems to be a TV or two that I don't quite recognize (must have been elves that brought them).
Tomorrow brings a day of leftovers and good friends. It's my only full day here, so I hope to rise early to the occasion…
