A Rainy Day

The soft rain persistently pattered on my windshield as I drove quietly home, and the three year old drifted off to sleep in her car seat. I drove past a couple of the houses I'd viewed recently, looking at them one more time on my way home. The trees surrounding me showed off their changing colors--some still green, others brightened up into brilliant reds, yellows and oranges. I pulled up thoughts for reflecting and reminiscing and pushed them away again. Reaching home, the quiet remained as I gathered my papers and my daughter, locked up the car and unlocked the door at home. The quiet home, with its spotless vacuumed floors, clean kitchen, and sparkling bathroom embraced me as I carried my sleeping girl to bed, tucked her under her blanket and closed the door behind me. Soon, the quiet will be replaced by the daily 'chaos' of welcoming home school children, reading their papers, and finding out about their school day.
The phone. How are you doing? Going through withdrawals. I thought you might be. I realized they were probably on the road and things there might be pretty quiet. So you called just to check on me? Yes.
The tears, unexpected came unbidden then, and he waited patiently as the emotions settled again. Really, I'm not that sad. It was a wonderful weekend. We loved having grandparents visit, and feel spoiled with all they have done for and with us. We just miss them, their cheerful laughs and visits, and all they've done for us and with us. And, we'll miss them until the next time, still undetermined and unknown. And so it is that I am going through withdrawals.
Gratefully, I get to do the welcome home routine this afternoon too.