My brother-in-law was in town on business being crazy busy, and with the weekend coming we knew at some random point we’d get our time… and so this morning he called to say he was on his way.
After a visit here awhile, we all headed up to their aunt’s house in the mountains, where we were joined by their cousin and his family coming up from Santa Cruz.
We caught up, hour after hour: one had only recently moved home to the States after four years doing the ex-pat life–in a part of the world where we’re glad to have him and his family back safe now. One who had a wife and small children who had somehow, all on their own, become four and seven years old already, hard to fathom. The aunt who quilts, her nephew whose wife does.
The four year old barked and was the doggy under the table during dessert. I meowed. He grinned. I aarfed back. He loved it. I (after most of the others had retired to the living room and were far enough away) did my fair imitation of a horse whinny, to his exceeding delight–while Aunt Mary Lynn, startled, looked up from way over thataway, going, Who–was that you…?!
(I can just HEAR my little sister reading this and going, You didn’t. You still do that?)
We created an early mini Thanksgiving celebration, salmon, salad, and my chocolate torte sub’ing in for the turkey and cranberries and pie.
And a good time was had by all.
The walkway up to the front steps was being rebuilt, so at the end, we had to leave going a less familiar way down the steps in the semi-dark of the garage that, like the house, had been built into the hillside.
Where the stair turns, I missed one and tumbled towards Richard’s legs.
My brother-in-law allowed as how I had given him a scare. My aunt-in-law firmly declared I was to hold onto her arm from here on out. I tried to assure them it was no big deal (while inwardly exulting, Look! No breaks! Cool!)
My BIL would brush off any hints of our worrying while he was overseas. I will brush off any worrying over me. We’re fine.
Family solidarity, all around. Good stuff.