Another weekend gone. Whoosh. I blinked and that's all it took.
Friday night The Boy and his roommate stopped by for an overnight on their way to the Big Apple for their spring break adventure. We had the chance to feed them, catch up on gossip and enjoy a bit of youth in the house. The Boy did his own laundry.
Wendy and I had to duck out fairly early on Saturday for a visit with my mother. We left the boys slouching bare-chested and unshaven on the couch, dogs in laps, remote control in hand, surfing cartoons on cable. I wished we could stay home.
Saturday evening found us with my mother for Saint Patrick's Day dinner at the yacht club. Hal was being honored with lifetime membership. The club has been around since 1932. Hal is only the fifth person given such a tribute. They miss him too.
Sunday morning we were in cleaning, hauling, and sorting mode as we continue to help my mom organize and prioritize a lifetime's possessions while preparing for her future. Will this fun ever end? Of course it will. We're working with a deadline these days.
Now we're back home again, poised on the brink of yet another week.
Round and round we go. Familiar yet changing places, faces and routines illuminated by flashes of the past at every turn. For that, I am grateful.
* Post title borrowed from the song "Breathe" by Anna Nalick.