7 November 2013

I got home around 2:00 this afternoon, and while everyone else was napping or working, I was greeted by Fifth and Sixth Brothers. They came running across the field to my car; Sixth wrapped his arms about me and buried his face in my midriff, ever the affectionate one, even at the newly acquired age of nine.  Eager to show me the latest in their Lego collection, Sixth led me inside and up to his shared bedroom, where he proudly displayed the new Star Fighters, droids and other miscellaneous Star Wars sets he had been collecting. Fifth joined us to discuss what set they plan to buy next; the posters on the walls lead me to believe that Star Wars might soon be joined by Lord of the Rings. Did you know that Lego has LoTR sets? Imagine acting out the Battle of the Black Gate with Mini-figures. ("For all that you hold dear on this good earth, I bid you stand, Lego Men of the West!") 
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Mom, up from her nap, comes down in her green jumper and fair-isle sweater, hugs me, puts on the coffee. We pull out our yarn and needles, and show and tell our latest projects: my shetland lace baby blanket (for a sweet new mother-to-be), her purple patchwork squares. We sit and work with coffee at hand.  
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My sweet Littlest Sister is finally awake, and she tip-toe runs to hug me from behind as she hums in wordless contentment. Sometimes she has a lot to say, others, she can be completely mute. She wants to show me her Lincoln Log village, the train, the bank and the cabins (especially the one where our cousins Jon and Amanda live). She continues to build as she listens to Disney on Pandora. Just like her big sister, she can name most of the songs by movie within the first few seconds. I'm ever so proud. ;)
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At dinner I almost laughed out loud when Littlest Sister, indignantly protested over the fact that she had to have mashed potatoes while Sixth Brother wasn't required to partake. "You're gonna have to work on that," Mom warned me; but when you're used to the company of 18-22 year-olds, the precocity of a 5-year-old can be almost too much to bear. 
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We need a sign by the coffee maker that says "I'm sorry, but you must be this high to ride the coffee machine." That way Fifth Brother will know not bother to pipe up when Dad takes a head count for after-dinner coffee.
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The kids sent to bed, Dad and the Big Boys put on The Magnificent Seven, one of those classic movies where (Spoiler Alert!) in the end, everyone you like dies. Its my dad's favorite genre. I sew to the noise of a rollicking cowboy soundtrack and gunshots, till its over and everyone disperses and I'm left here at the dining room table with my newly finished skirt, my computer and the cold dregs of coffee swilling around in the bottom of my mug. It's good to be home.

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