C the B

The old house is clean and waiting. We have spent the last two days getting her ready for the renters. All the cobwebs, dust and sand are gone. The porch has been swept and the fridge cleaned out. There remains nothing to remind them that we were here at all. All personal items are banished to the owners' closet. Sad, isn't it?

They will discover the sticking kitchen drawer and the toilet that flushes slowly. They will fill the fridge with their food and maybe it will be more exotic than ours. We left the sand toys and balls that were not used this year. I hope their kids enjoy them. The house is wating for them.

What they won't have is the history that we have. I know how the screen on the front door got broken. I know who slept where and who likes the the back bedroom most. We all know who painted the birds on the stairs. The ugly mugs in the kitchen make me laugh every summer, but no one wants to toss them out. One of the slipcovers is currently being held together with duct tape.

The owners' closet isn't locked, but I hope that the renters will respect our privacy by not opening it. My cherry mug is in there as is the new one I bought for my other half. The rest of the stuff looks like a photo album of times past. Cast off baby toys and other special things including our signature cups with the cottage number on them are in there too. That stuff as well as the ancient furniture is waiting for the family, our family,  to return. The cottage waits for another summer.

We are sitting on the porch reading the Sunday paper. We do this every week; just somehwere else. Here is where we slow down and listen to "the worms breathing", he says. The house is quiet because our guests have left. The children are not here this year and that makes both of us sad and more than a little wistful. Watching the grandchildren repeat the rituals of this place is what we miss the most. There is a hole in my heart.

It's been a strange time without our family around us; not a ritual I'd like to repeat. This place, our summer home, is lonely without them. No amount of beauty can replace the beauty of family. I can honestly say that I miss even the sand and melted ice cream! The mess of the family stuff is not something we ever anticipate missing, but there it is. Families are messy. Feelings get hurt, wet towels get left all over the place and ice pops melt into puddles on the porch, but we are together and that, my friends is messy.

Today I am going down to the beach. I may need a sweater because here in this place, the sun has come but not yet the warmth. I will gather some stones for my garden at that other place we call home. They will remind me of the time we spent here this summer. I will scatter the stones like we are scattered this year.

Gathering stones from the water is messy business, but not as messy as families can be. I miss the messy family and my heart is a stone in my chest.

Little boys

He smells a little like rusty nails and soap. Today he dressed in his Batman pjs, strapped on the new pistol (a Yankee one! more on that later), and donned his cape. He looked for tall the world like a confused soldier caught between being the caped crusader and Wyatt Earp!
After my trip to Wallyworld, he is now the proud owner of a "supersoaker". The water gun with the large tank is much better than the smaller version purchased two days ago, which needed refilling every 2 minutes. We do tend to underestimate the power of a 5-year old!
Now for the pistol story. We made a trip to Old Salem yesterday for a walk through the restored village and to see the Guinnea hens roaming the streets. Nevermind that it was hotter than the hinges on the gates of Hell! The hens must have agreed because they were no where to be seen. Undaunted, we moved onto the water pump which used to be the highlight of all trips to the village. The pump was dry! So it was on to the shop which I told him had the kinds of toys that little boys played with 200 hundred years ago before WII and video games. Did he want the pop gun or the wodden wagon? No sir, he spotted the Civil War pistols with holsters. Great, I thought. What a great time to celebrate Southern pride. Buying him a "Johnny Reb" gun with the "CS" on the belt would do it! Did he want that one, no. He chose the "Yankee" version with "US" on the holster! What was that about? The Rebel one was superior in my opinion and I pointed out, naming all the men he knew, that we were Rebels, not Yankees. He wasn't having it, so the Yankee one it is now in bed with him, right next to his heroes, Batman and Buzz Lightyear. Explaining the buy to his mother was another thing and to add insult to injury, the offending item is a YANKEE PISTOL!

Also in included in the Wallyworld purchases are two packs of caps for the weapon. Don't tell anyone, but I think that they were made in China.