I am home. This is how I know:

  • So far I’ve only spoken to my father on the phone. Although there’s that added intimacy of local calling, I suppose.

  • My grandfather told the story about how Catholic school gym class meant opening the window, standing up, and breathing deeply. And the nuns pulled him around by the hair behind his ear all the time. We know, grandpa.
  • My sisters spent fifteen minutes composing the most expensive orders possible at the breakfast restaurant that we went to.
  • My mother spent two hours holding five samples of wallpaper up to the dining room walls, and thinking.
  • My Italian grandma called at 10pm to know if I wanted any waffles.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s