Tuesday, January 6, 2026

     I stay in my bedroom listening to the family pack up their suitcases and establish order back in the house. They have a noon flight back to New York. They leave the house in better condition then before. Two healthy young men and two charming talented middle aged women. We hug, take pictures, say good by and they are off. I walk through the house. Nothing of theirs is left behind. They are gone and the house is quiet.  My daughter roommate and I check in with each other and then spend most of the day in silence as we adjust to our quiet life.

     Garbage day. The tall young man drags my over full bins to the curb before getting into the rental car. Can’t forget garbage day even during the good by rituals. Garbage can’t wait. Garbage doesn’t care.

     My writing friend comes at 4 and we decide to just talk. We catch up with stories of current family life. I start a fire in the fireplace that peters out before it really catches.

     I finish reading NEXT OF KIN, a memoir by Gabrielle Hamilton. A powerful writer about her family and growing up and growing old. Lots of it is unsettling as I think back to my childhood and my times as a parent. No escape from that clutching feeling that we may not have understood what was actually going on.

 

Monday, January 5, 2026

     Moving day, not sure I can write this morning. They are packing up, getting ready for their flight back to New York. I stay out of the way. I am told that there is mild flooding in the basement from these last rains. Water table must be high. Dishes are washed, suitcases packed. Everyone is tense and working on staying calm. More rain is coming.

 

Sunday, January 4, 2026

     Besides all the maintenance work for the 7 of us, food and eating, bathroom use, showers, who gets the comfortable couch and warm comforter, we had unexpected thoughtful honest conversations about our lives. These times remind me of how lucky I am to be a part of this family. I love my family. Of course, we also had times of hurt feelings, unexpected outbursts, and confusion.

     I keep evaluating these experiences as if they are unusual and deserved a grade. I forget that I am part of this mix. In the morning before the day really begins we hang out together with our coffee. I feel alive, ready to let go of all my medical stories.

     I search the news for more information about our incursion into Venezuela. Rains squalls batter the neighborhood. Everything is damp. Puddles, wind blowing. I struggle with the actions of our government. Nothing feels safe anymore.

     Started watching the Springsteen movie, nope not for me. I am loving the new memoir NEXT OF KIN by Gabrielle Hamilton.  She is such a good writer.