there’s a sign hanging on the dining room door with colorful words welcoming me home.
i’ve not been here for twenty-four hours and i’ve already had my hair cut (i love my sister) and saw a newly decorated salon.
i’ve stood in my kitchen and laughed with younger sisters and a friend while brownies were being made.
i ate on my pink side porch while talking even more.
a sister walked down with her little wagon and i tickled my babies, listened to the talkative princess of the family, wondered at the little boy in the baby of the family, and laughed at our serious four-year-old.
i’ve talked. and i’ve talked a lot. i’ve “bored” them with my stories (i’m so loved around here) and entertained them with sound effects to go with them. they’ve caught me up on what they’ve been doing and all the goings on here and i’ve been reminded of how much i love these people and this place.
i’m home. and i love it.