I walk through my front door tonight and sigh a deep, tired, overwhelming relieved to be home sigh. I leave home most mornings before 6:00 and arrive home most evenings after 7:00. It’s been a long dang 11-hour day which fed into a long dang 60-hour week and the work week is not yet over.
Tonight I have my grandson in tow. He’s spending the weekend with us and he’s just one of my end of the week rewards. He doesn’t care how tired I am or how stressful my week has been, he just knows that I’m grandma – provider of milk and pizza and love. He’s what I love about home.
We walk through the door and we’re instantly greeted by our two dogs – Izzy and Ziggy. Izzy is our old girl and Ziggy our can’t leave puppy-hood behind pain in the butt, and they bark and jump and wag their curly tails until I bend down and let them shower me with doggy kisses. They are what I love about home.
With the dogs fed and taken out, I head to the bedroom to change my clothes. I remove my work costume of the day and reach for all things soft and comfortable. Stretchy gym pants that allow me to breath, a ratty old sports bra that leaves the girls mildly supported but more gently embraced, a bright orange v-neck t-shirt which is covered by a faded pink exercise jacket that is spotted with blue dots caused by a washing machine collision with a new pair of jeans. I slip into a pair of once white socks and pink fluffy slippers and again I sigh. This sigh is joyful and relaxed. This is what I love about home.
I shuffle to the operations center of the house and take the pizza from the oven and pour a glass of milk. The grandson is fed. I look for something to eat and take a couple of pieces of lefsa from the freezer, nuke and butter them and call that supper. I’m too tired to cook and too tired to care. Lefsa and a bottle of Vitawater will be dinner tonight and I’m content. This feeling of contentment is what I love about home.
Finally, oh sweet Lord, finally, I sit down in my recliner. Ahhh. Ahhhh escapes from my lips. The fireplace is blazing, the dogs have settled in and Charlie Brown is keeping little Matthew occupied. No one is bringing me their issues. The phone is not ringing. My stress level is non-existent. This is truly what I love about being home.
There are 45 minutes between consciousness and dozing off in my chair. I will doze on and off until 9:00 when I will move from here to my nightly resting place. Matthew and I will settle into our sleeping domains and he will lull me with one of his bedtime stories. I will fall asleep to the sing-song chatter of my grandson’s voice sharing the latest adventure of whichever superhero he chooses as his main character. I will fall asleep relaxed, joyful and at peace. I love being home. Oh, I do indeed love being home.