Getting Ready

A six year-old boy climbing a century-old oak to spy on the neighbors; his ten year-old brother sitting by himself in the schoolyard, missing his Wayland friends. Their thirteen year-old sister happy that she can walk to the field and meander back in the afternoon with her team after soccer practice. Years ago, I should have kept a guest book for the relatives and friends who have slept in these beds, for the graduation parties, bridal showers, birthday celebrations, Mothers Day brunches, Thanksgiving dinners, Seders, Break Fasts that filled the foyer, the dining room, the patio and the yard. Two newborn grandchildren came home to the loving embrace of this place. In the attic there are bins of Legos and Ninja Turtles and in the basement there are bikes, ice hockey and ski gear, dusty diplomas, college notebooks and letters from old boyfriends. Twenty-four years of our shared history of generations in our family. Now two of us are creating our own language while weaving in spaces for our whole group: a crib and twin beds, an oversized TV for viewing sports, movies and world events, a large table carefully hand-crafted by my husband. This is a passage for us, but also the next chapter.