Grief is stored in small, odd places. I bid my sister and her family farewell this afternoon. We hugged and I cheerfully waved as they loaded into the car. It was an hour later that I wandered into my kitchen to clean up and found the plastic cups with their names written on them in sharpie. (It cuts down on the “all the glasses are dirty” problem if everyone has an assigned cup.) As I threw the cups into the trash it hit me that they are gone far away and it will be a long time before I see them again. I miss them already, even while being glad to have my office back. I can cheerfully wave goodbye to the people, but throwing old cups in the trash makes me cry. Go figure.
I bought a cat carrier today. I have no plans to take my cat anywhere. I’m pretty sure she would not like the carrier at all. However last month when people all over Utah were being evacuated from their homes due to fires, I realized that in an emergency the only way we’d have to evacuate our cat would be in a cardboard box. Also, at some point we are likely to need to transport her to a vet. So now we have a carrier that will stay folded up next to our 72 hour emergency kits. Sometime in the next ten years I’ll either be really grateful to have it, or will finally know that I could have used that money for something else.
My house is really quiet. The kids have all retreated into electronic games and books. We all need some introvert time. Next week Gleek ventures out to an away from home camp and Patch has a half-day lego camp all week. My house will feel empty. I will probably spend that emptiness shipping t-shirts as they are due to arrive next Tuesday. For now, I’m trying to re-configure my house and my brain to focus on convention prep and school prep instead of extended family bonding.