Yesterday I went with my sister and cousin to see my only surviving aunt, the baby of the family, who is in hospice care. My sister commented that this was the last of that generation, and that the next wave of deaths will be the older cousins; they are not much younger than my aunt is.
Kiki is at girl scout camp for the weekend, and Nita asked a friend over to play. The girls are jumping around upstairs, over my head, giggling and playing, tweedling on the recorders which I force Nita to keep in her room and not play anywhere else in the house. I am sorting coupons and reading the paper. EG is watching a war movie on television, much like my father would watch John Wayne on Saturday afternoon, and Rocky is in the room with him, half watching and half devouring a new book he got today.
I realized that we have begun to settle in our "real" life, the one without the nursing home and the dreading of phone calls in the middle of the night. Kids are playing in the house, the dog is sleeping on his bed, and the war is on TV again for this generation. So, for a few years, we will this way of life, one which Nita called "boring" this afternoon when she asked to call her friend. And, frankly, a few years of boring is what we need.
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