Monday Musing--Coming Home

“There's nothing half so pleasant as coming home again.”

-Margaret Elizabeth Sangster

We'll leave the light on for you...

I consider it a good sign that whenever we travel, even when we have had more than two decadent weeks in the Caribbean feasting on fresh lobster, conch and just-caught tuna, snorkeling and surfing and beachcombing, playing with cousins and making new friends, we are excited to come home. With the book tour and our winter vacation, we have been on the road plenty this year, but with homeschooling, we've also been using our home base, our classroom in the loft more. Home to my kids means ritual and familiar, means their usual foods, all of their recently acquired Christmas presents, their giant bins of Legos and art supplies, and their animals...

Saturday night, the car got quiet the last mile home from the airport. New snow had fallen--no paw prints to show the footwork of Jonah's last frolic. There was no exuberant, slobbery barking dog to greet us. For the first time in ten years, there was no Jonah to welcome us home.

Inside, the house was spotless. The three cats weaved anxiously and the youngest, Atticus, looked at us reproachfully as if to say, "You have no idea the shit that went down when you guys were gone." There were flowers and a note--a friend had left dinner in the fridge and a lovely card, chocolate in the cupboard. On the counter: Jonah's collar and brushes. J quickly carried them downstairs; everyone, human and feline, pricked up at the telltale, familiar jingle of Jonah's dog tags clinking together.

We heated the dinner and afterwards, I said reflexively, "Boys, clear your places, put your bowls down for--"before I stopped myself. It was the first time in my life that there hasn't been a dog hanging out by the table, waiting to clean the dishes.

After dinner, Hayden got his blanket and curled up on Jonah's big bed by the fireplace; he spent the night there. 

Moving on. Two days later, we are home, settled, 30% unpacked. There are good things happening too. I spent all of Sunday putting the final touches on my second novel and sending it off. We already have two playdates, three hockey games and a clinic under our belts, not to mention hours of fun on our finally-frozen backyard rink:

 "Eau du Joe" can still be found if you bury your nose in the throw pillows of the couch, and I already notice less hair overall, but without his cleaning assistance, more crumbs. As I write this, three deer walk boldly into our yard, sniff around to see if there is anything for them to nibble, no watchdog to keep them away.

It still feels like someone is missing. Bittersweet, but happy to be home.

Above: Hayden skating in to score