The Day After Tomorrow

The day after tomorrow, I will be in the company of everyone I love. And I won't even mind wearing a coat and gloves to do it.

I will sit in my sister's new kitchen - designed specifically so that everyone can fit comfortably in it when we're all together - peeling potatoes, grating cabbage and carrots, making cookies and drinking cinnamon tea. We'll nibble soup and chili and sandwiches and talk. And we'll laugh and laugh. The other travellers will trickle in all day and we'll all stay up too late.

On Thursday morning, my mother and sisters and I will get up early and set in motion dinner for 38. We'll take turns taking showers because we need to keep working. We'll set up the tables and my niece and nephew will iron the tablecloths and napkins and set the tables.

The rest of the family and friends will begin arriving early and will continue coming until we eat at about 4.

We'll talk about everything from organic farming to Glee and the night will stretch on. The games will come out, the tables begin getting broken down and put away and the furniture returned to it's rightful place.

And we'll talk more. And laugh. And laugh.

I cannot wait. It is these people who are my home.


hannahjustbreathe said...

Are you back from your day after tomorrow? I miss you!

Dorothy said...

Thanks! I missed you, too! But I'm home and will have at least a couple of things to say pretty soon.