What day is it?
"What day is it?" I've asked several times to my sons. Each in their turn has struggled to find the answer.
"Saturday?" Ben responded haltingly.
Minutes feel like hours, hours feel like days.
"I'm ready to do something," said my brother-in-law Michael, after the second or third full day of elongated visits, hanging out, eating, playing cards, eating, and various other activities. Did I mention eating?
I'm with Michael. After a couple of days, I'd prefer to be busy again, doing those things that have been left undone back at home. I'll be ready to start back north tomorrow morning.
After last night's smoke infused pork roast, cheesecake and multiple drams of scotch, I felt a deep longing to go back on the Ideal Protein program. I'm guessing that I'm of the majority at this time of year. Loads of time and lots of food are a dreadful pairing for my middle age bulge.
We are lucky. When we have these family visits, they are free of drama and steeped in love. I know that is not the case in many family units and extended family ecosystems.
"What day is it?" I asked 5-year-old Julia.
Silence and thought.
"Sunday," she said.
"Indeed it is," I replied.