Routine Returns

They're gone, all of them. Mary, Rose and Quinn are on their way to the airport thanks to David. My Home Care Aide, Olga, came at 10:00 AM and left at about the same time as the kids. It went, in merely a moment, from being a whirlwind of activity to being near silent, with only the whirring of the fridge and the rushing noise of traffic passing by on the street below.

That whirlwind, of course, has left behind its scattered remnants as all whirlwinds must do. There is a basket of linens for me to launder, bits and pieces of paper here and there, a cot to put away. Yet there really is very little evidence that the kids were ever here. Mary tidied, put away, and left me very little to do afterwards. I suspect my largest task will be folding the cot; I'm going to ask David to help me with that once he returns from the airport.

Now I get to savour these moments of quietude, this time of stillness. I get to contemplate once again the impact of seeing my ex-wife yesterday. I get to smile inwardly at the reluctance of my grandson, Quinn, to even leave my apartment. I get to relish my moments of a made bed, a tidy home, a clean kitchen. I get to bring order and timeliness back into my life. Routine returns.

All of this doesn't mean my life suddenly becomes empty. I already have wine bottling going on this afternoon. Those who are helping me will stay for dinner, and perhaps a few glasses of new wine, this evening. Tomorrow will be a day of rest, perhaps. We'll see how I feel. I know for certain I don't have to do any shopping. My fridge is full. My freezer is full. My pantry is full. My wine rack is full. The only thing missing is a decent bottle of Scotch. I seem to go through a lot of that stuff these days.