Let’s pretend that it is not quite the witching hour but that it is quickly approaching. We’ll ignore that after a week on the east coast I haven’t adjusted to the time zone. It is not because I can’t or as if I am suffering from jet lag because I am not. Can’t really say why I haven’t just, that I am operating in a different place that lies somewhere in the twilight zone.
We’ll spend a moment talking about the week that was and how cool it was to see my nieces and nephews. We’ll talk about how Uncle Jack was in rare form and why my sisters loved/hated having me live with them. We’ll tell stories about endless hours at the lake and at the pool. Share memories of making s’mores, Rocky Mountain Toast and stories I told about when we were little boys and girls.
And I’ll share my frustration of having very little privacy and how I am far less tolerant of some things than I used to be. It is not so easy living in a house that is not your own. My sisters are great hostesses and do a wonderful job of making you feel comfortable and wanted. But still it is not my place and I have to adjust to different ways of doing things. Not always so easy.
While we stroll down memory lane we’ll take a look at a 300 mile car trips that took far longer than it should have. We’ll talk about being forced to park on the freeway for 1.5 and how crazy it was. Might even talk about the children and their requests to use the facilities.
Under normal circumstances you’d merely exit the freeway and find a convenient restroom. Not so easy when traffic stops, people exist their cars and mill about aimlessly.
And many hours later you too might find yourself typing in a dark hotel room. You might look to your left and see a ten year old boy sleeping diagonally in the bed that you are supposed to share with him. And you might wonder how you are going to possibly sleep with him practicing Krav Maga in his sleep. Or more importantly wonder how many new aches and pains will materialize after such a night.