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Home for Thanksgiving

Tuesday brought great excitement as the prodigal daughter returned home from the dorm, having figured out how to get here all on her own.  Four hours, two trains and a subway ride later, she was dragging backpack and duffel off the Metro-North platform in Stamford.

A few minutes later she was dumping them just inside the doorway here at the house. You know, in that spot where everyone will trip over them.

Back where she belongs.

Back where she belongs.

I had only a brief time to catch up. In a flash, she raided the fridge — bemoaned our lack of food now that we don’t stock some of the junk we used to — grabbed my car keys and was out the door to visit with a friend.

Back a couple of hours later, she stayed only a brief time before another friend picked her up for the afternoon.

Yesterday was more of the same, although I convinced her to bake the pumpkin cake … then re-cleaned the kitchen after her token effort.

As I write this, I can see a scarf and fleece jacket slung over the love seat. A pair of boots is strewn hither and yon behind it. A laptop cord snakes across the living room floor and the number of in-use bathroom towels has mushroomed.

And I’m thankful for every bit of it.

I guess Basil is, too. Catherine told me last night that he wasn’t merely sitting in the car outside the train station Tuesday. He was standing on the platform waiting for her arrival and ran toward her as soon as she got off the train.

Hope your day today is full of just as much love and joy. Happy Thanksgiving!

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