It. Was. The. Best.
When we built our house, we built it bigger than we needed so we could have all the people come and stay with us. Everyone jokes its for more kids. It’s not and never was. It’s for the people we love to come visit us.
All week our house was filled with noise. Happy noises of people laughing, some mild arguments, kids laughing, an occasional tear when my toddler tries to do something the older kids do, all of it. The noise was welcome and it really, really felt like home.
Then Sunday rolled around. We loaded the first person off to the airport. Then the next three. We cleaned up and there were no longer remnants of the week that had passed. Then we shuffled our last visitors off to the airport and when we got home, there was no noise.
It was quiet. It was empty. It’s a silence I am very used to, but felt different yesterday when I came home to it.
Normally I welcome that silence. I like being alone. This week was a glimpse back into my childhood and a much needed week of healing. It was a reminder that my cousin’s and I could still have what we had in the back bedroom of my grandma’s house even though she’s not here. Even though we’re adults. Even though we haven’t slept in that back bedroom in over 10 years.
I can’t wait for the time my house is filled with noise again. I welcome the next visitors. I’m thankful for the time they spent here and I long for the next time they’ll come. Despite loving my life as it is here, I long for those days we got to be together all the time and I am so thankful we can periodically recreate them.
We’re ushering in a new generation. I want that new generation to have these same memories I had in the back bedroom. It’s not the place that ultimately matters, though the place is so, so special. It’s the people. If Elle can have even an ounce of what I have in my relationships with my cousins, she a lucky, lucky girl.