It was shockingly quiet here in the house all week, just me and Lucy the dog. I hardly went out, since I was pretty ill most of the time. My parents dropped by to check on me, walk the dog, and drop off food from time to time. But I spent the week—largely feeling content and by my own choice—mostly alone.
This afternoon my wife and two daughters returned from Victoria, where she had been attending a conference, pulling up in the car close to 3 p.m.
The transformation was instantaneous. Kids arguing, laundry flying, puppy barking, snacks inhaled, sudden clutter making magical appearances here and there. Air and I exchanged a few glances: she'd been dealing with this type of chaos by herself for six days and nights.
I had woken up mysteriously early this morning, and Air was tired after an early morning and the drive and ferry, so we crashed out for a nap while the kids played and watched TV. Despite the continued noise (even Lucy decided to chomp on a squeaky toy while lying between us), I had a smile on my face. It's better when the house is full.
I'm sure I'll tire of the hullabaloo soon enough, but not today.