Days away feel like eternity and the missing is fierce, especially when the being away is a conference about the well-being of children and one is constantly reminded of the ones left behind.
I arrived in the night. The house was quiet, but filled with energy. Here's a bit of what I found in the wee, dark hours:
The floor that is wonderfully not-so-clean anymore:
A bit of art in place of a fingerprint smudged wall:
The simple gift, a lid and box made of recycled index cards (pennies are very valuable to this little one, so a gift of 6 of them is precious):
Evidence of an indoor camping trip because the rain was fierce (somebody's ready for summer):
And because somebody, like his mother, is a planner, part of the list that apparently got them ready for the evening.
And, finally, the note and flowers that greeted me, when he was too sleepy to:
When he woke in the morning, he said,
"Did you see the flowers, Mom? They're unique, don't you think? Well, not unique to them, but to me they are."
Love this kid! It's good to be home.