My parents flew home on my birthday, and both B and I had to work. I spent most of the late morning just sitting and wishing the weekend hadn’t ended so soon. There is always a slight melancholy at the end of a visit. This one was no different.
It’s been a perfectly good week. But the house seems sad without my Dad’s laugh and my Mom’s knitting. I’m glad we have another trip planned, because this would be even harder if we didn’t.
Until the next visit, I’ll remember that the slight melancholy is just a reminder of the good times we had. And I’ll play those on repeat until I see them again.