homeward bound

Our checklist of vacation to-dos wasn't complete without a quest for donuts. Failing to find a single Krispy Kreme, we opted for Dunkin Donuts instead. It was a crisp, quiet morning, not a soul in sight as we skipped up to the doors. Immediately we were swept in by a shouting mob, the cashiers barking over the clamor, hands shooting past our ears clutching dollars and pastries. "WHATTAYA WANT?!" screeched the cashier. My hands flew up in confusion, I waved them stupidly and began yelling, "Pink donut! Sprinkles! Munchkins! 25! 25! I said 25!! Mixed!" We banged outside and stood panting with our paper bag. "God, that was just like an instant trip to the city." Kind of awesome, in a terrifying way.

We sucked up the last of summer and watched as autumn tried to catch us. Gavin demanded his jeans and socks and hoodie, then punched his cousin in the head when she teased him and yanked down his hood. I should not have been proud of him. My jacket smelled like a bar, so I stood shivering in a tank top while we packed the car with Salvo. "I am so done with this cold," I told Gavin. He pulled down his hood and nodded, "Let's get out of here." At the airport, I wrapped in a blanket and sat in the terminal worrying my pockets while Mike hunted for breakfast with Gavin. We sipped coffee, ate chicken, boarded the plane, and were gone. Over the hills and far away.

Up for work at 3:30am. Gavin is methodically cooing over every one of his toy trains he had forgotten he owned, holding them up for me to admire. "The Easter Bunny gave me this one, look, mom! My break-down train, look!" He has been leaping from one thing to the next - trains, cats, grannie - with glee. I'm looking at the full answering machine and piles of moving boxes with resigned dread. Life starts, life waits, life goes on, etc.