And They're Gone

It's quiet in my apartment today. All I can hear is the background whirring of the fan, pushing warm air around my table, cooling off my feet. There is no sound of little feet pitter-pattering in a gallop from living room to bedroom across the laminate floor. There are no squeals of high pitched voices laughing at their own joke. The is no rakish bellow from a two year old being denied another episode of Paw Patrol, nor the sound of the mad dash to the patio window in order to wave bye-bye to the umpteenth bus leaving the stop in front of my house.

My children, and their children, are off on their long trek back to the Lower Mainland of British Columbia, back to their home in Abbotsford where they will resume once again their routine as I once again resume mine. The routine life of a young family is all noise, bustle, and effort. My routine is so much calmer, so much quieter, so much more peaceful. I am torn between missing their presence and enjoying my rest.

Last night was exceptional. My daughter, Kate, dropped by with one of her friends for a visit. Except it was not to visit me. She does that often enough. She came by to visit her sister and family. Her arrival gave us an opportunity to head over to the mall together; Kate needed to pick up some contact lenses. She had a chance to play with the children, to run off ahead with Charlotte, to share dinner with us. Meaghan had a chance to gossip with her sister, to get up to date on all that was happening here in Alberta. I was left off to the side, simply enjoying their enjoyment of one another.

I even went to bed early, leaving the youngsters to chatter away into the night. I knew I would need that sleep, for this morning was to come early. Meaghan and family left by 8:00 AM, all trooping into my bedroom to hug me and say good bye, the noise of their packing and preparing for departure having woken me some time earlier. Kate and her friend managed to sneak out shortly thereafter without disturbing me, only to return this afternoon to borrow my shower and prepare for the wedding of a friend.

So now I am up. I have time to do something, anything. I am moderately rested, but still tired enough that I could go back to bed. I won't. I will do something, without little helpers. I miss them already.