Gratitude - A Gentle Reunion

The household is waiting. Waiting for big brother to come home.

Broken toys are piled on the paino. There's a cake in the oven.

And three little boys line the back window, hands pressed on cool glass.

"When will they be here?" Zay asks. He's been watching down the road.

It should be time. They should be close.

"Soon," I say. "Why don't we play a game? Read a book? It'll help the time pass."

"No," Zay says. "I have to wait here."

I go about business in the kitchen. There are endless chores. Stacked dishes. Crumbs on the floor. Traces of life piled high.

And the little boys wait.

And the clock hands move slow.

I watch the boys as the boys watch the road.

Finally there's a whoop! A shout. The boys see my parents' van. The grandparents went to retrieve our boy.

And now they've brought him home.

The boys are out and the porch door slams. I stand in the doorway and watch them pound the stairs. Then I'm after them. Fast. It's a reunion I don't want to miss.

Logan's barely out of the van when Zay presses into his arms. The other brothers swarm. They want to be held, too, but they wait because Zay is small.

And there it is - the gentle reunion.

Logan's standing still. His hands stretch over Zay's back. Zay pushes in deep. His eyes close. His hands don't meet over Logan's shoulders, but they're holding tight. He doesn't let go.

Time has passed. We've grown. Changed. But the family beat carries on.

We're all still for a moment. Then the fullness of life rushes in. There are questions. Stories. Chatter and helpers accompany big brother in.

It's almost Thanksgiving.

A coming-together time.

And I'm grateful before it begins.


Thank you, God...