When

When they open the door it feels like it was just yesterday we said goodbye, not almost two years. Hugs and amazement at The Brother's and The Girl's growth, cries of how are you and I've missed you so much. The Man and I strike up a conversation, and he cooks us a steak and I get Cattle Boys steak sauce, then I eat all the vegetables I can because I've been deprived while traveling. It's amazing. The Girl shows me her newly painted room and we make all sorts of plans to go do this and that and spend time here and there, to do facials and paint nails and jump on trampolines and be kids.

I'm so full I can barely walk, but we grab The Dogs and head to the old park across the road from my old house. The new owners have put in a flower garden, but the plants The Mom broke her back over have withered and shriveled, and the fence needs painting. From the other side of the fence, I can see the apple trees have sprouted up and the pine tree I brought home in a paper bag back in second grade is taller than I am now. Things have changed, but that's alright. So have I.

The Brother, The Boy and The Girl and I all run to the playground that had graced a younger version of me with calluses across my palms and start playing a game of Grounders, and we bravely fight off mosquitos while trying to not touch the ground for fear of being It. I clamber over the monkey bars like I'm seven years old again. After that, we race through the field, chasing The Parents and The Dogs and Each Other, dancing the funky chicken dance as we attempt to avoid being eaten alive by the blood-sucking monsters that whine in our ears.

When we return, The Boy drives us to get a slushy, and on the way he tries to show off while simultaneously not show off his new car. He pulls it off pretty well. The slushy is like a truckload of sugar being dumped on my face, and I want another. The Brother is kind enough to share his with me.

I do The Girl's hair and hope that my fears will never come true, that she'll never grow up and forget me, walk past me and not recognize my face. The Woman cuddles The Dog and asks me to teach her how to do The Girl's hair, then we lay down and watch The Girl swing on her gymnastics bar like she was born on it while The Brother attempts to do the same. He doesn't quite make it.

Already I'm dreading the inevitable goodbye, the moment when we have to close the door behind us but then I'm reminded of the wise words of Winnie the Pooh, and somehow everything seems a little easier.

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