Gramps and Elisha mushroom hunting

The cool dark of a spring night has folded in around the cabin.  Sleepy dogwoods have closed their eyes, white blossoms nodding beneath the budding canopy of whispering oaks stretching their limbs after a long winter’s nap.  There is the heavy, pregnant scent the precedes a midwestern thunderstorm set to roll over us before morning.

This is our last stop before the big push eastward toward a summer’s work in Massachusetts.  This is always our last stop in Indiana, the place we come to rest up and recharge after a whirlwind of fun with friends and family.  This week has been particularly fabulous, with my Grandmother’s 90th birthday and every living relative in attendance.  We’ve laughed until our cheeks hurt and exchanged more than enough hugs to make up for our winter’s absence.  We celebrated a baby shower for my brother’s impending child, visited dear old traveling friends, and my mother delivered her first pizza (with my father-in-law’s help!)  The children have worked with their grandparents at the restaurant, roasted marshmallows and played ball with their cousins, told adventurous stories to wide-eyed great aunts and eaten more cake and ice cream than children have a right to in a 72 hour period.  I can’t remember when we’ve had more fun.

Miller cousins

We were sad to hug Daddy good-bye Monday morning.  He left before the last of the visiting and marshmallow roasting were done.  With stern instructions to his sons and bear hugs all around he kissed my forehead and flew off ahead of us to do battle on our behalf and provide so generously for all of the little things I take for granted.  He always smiles, never complains, and trades two weeks more of visits with those we love the most for half a month of “the cube wars” as if he were getting the better end of the deal.  That’s why he’s my knight in shining armor.  We reflected, as we drove off, that it is the first flight Tony’s taken since we flew home from Paris a year ago, and celebrated the fact that we are no longer used to airport good-byes and long absences, which for his 8 years of corporate life were par for the course.

Grandma's 90th... our corner of the family

A week from tonight, if all goes as planned, I’ll be sitting on another of my favorite couches drinking tea with my buddy, listening to 11 kids not sleeping and trying to ignore it.  It will mark the end of our winter’s journey.  Between here and there are the last 1200 miles and a few more hugs and late nights of laughter to be exchanged.  Of all the places we go, the many places we call home are the best.  This little cottage in the woods, for instance.  Long ago it became my refuge, second only to my mother’s couch in it’s ability to turn me into a puddle of mush.  This is the place I come to rest, recover, regroup, and prepare to conquer the “next thing.”  It’s the place I know I can arrive unannounced, stay as long as I like, and there will be no expectations.  I can laugh, cry, talk, sing, think, write or sleep for days and not scare anyone.  My kids are absorbed into the family seamlessly and we find that we’re not visitors at all, our family size just grows; three or four parents are better than two!

Gramps helps Ez with a loose tooth

The kids and I are looking forward to the long drive home.  We’ve made this road trip before and it’s kinda fun to strike out onto the black ribbon of highway, just us, and create our own adventure.  We’ll have stories to tell Daddy when we get ‘home’.  For tonight, I’m basking in the silence, watching the milky twilight fade to velvet night as the watchful trees arch protective limbs over my head, tucking me in for the night.  There are no stars to slide past the skylights as I watch tonight, listening for the rain to begin tapping on the roof, providing the drumbeat to my dreams.