I wake up this morning to the sounds of my house. All the beds in it were full last night: Uber son and his family have come home for a weekend visit.
It is an hour before I usually get up, but I hear my toddler Grand. She woke up in a cheery mood and is now pattering around the house--her mom in tow--having a babbling conversation with herself. It's such a happy sound--like a soft, lilting song. Then I hear the "big kids." They are up and around and leave a more definitive step on the stairs.
Now they are all in the kitchen. I can hear cereal plopping into bowls, milk being poured and the chatter, chatter, chatter of children in the morning--a little tiff over something or other but otherwise breakfast is being wolfed down while I pull myself out of bed.
My house has come alive. It is stretching and expanding to shelter and care for them. Me, too.
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