Down the gravel road away from my house, they take their chatter, laughter, and energy.
There is a food stain on my new table cloth, dirt on the carpet. The sofa sectionals are askew, and a blue ball hides under a chair.
Half-full water bottles sit abandoned throughout my house. Someone ate the leftover rolls. The roast is gone, so is the mac and cheese, but there will be lots of salad for Grandpa HoneyBunch and my dinner tomorrow.
My grandchildren came to visit and they brought their parents with them. My two sons, my daughter, and their spouses are their chauffeurs and they generously include us in the upbringing of The Nine.
The quiet is deafening. The house sighs. I need a nap, but first I sit and smile, remembering the day and missing them already.
Watching The Nine grow reminds me of how quickly time escapes through our fingers. It brings back memories of when my children, their parents, were little and their chatter, laughter, and energy filled my days. The memories are sweet.
So when I watch The Nine run about, chatter, eat up all the food it took hours for me to prepare, I am grateful to be around to see life repeat itself. It is comforting to see it all happening once again, the wonderful moments I once took for granted.