I sit on our deck, look out to the trees behind our house, and listen to a family of birds chirping in the distance. They seem to be singing a happy song. In my heart and mind anyway, it’s a happy song. I’m physically and mentally exhausted, but I can’t think of a better way to close out the weekend.
We celebrated my youngest son’s high school graduation on Friday night. He’s worked extremely hard for this moment. He spent hours studying when he could’ve been doing anything else. For his hard work, he graduated with honors and has a bright future.
The celebration over the weekend, though, almost didn’t happen. My oldest son’s plane flying in from California got diverted. My daughter and her boyfriend got delayed. I could see the weekend and my plans slowly slipping away between our fingers.
But in the end, everything worked out. For two short days, for 48 hours, we were altogether again — one crazy family, celebrating my son’s achievements; laughing and rough-housing; reminiscing about long forgotten stories; teasing each other and just enjoying each other’s company, and then, just as quickly, we were off on our separate ways again.
So once again, I’m happy and even a little sad, but my heart is full. I sit on the deck, listening to the birds and thinking how we’re a lot like them. We fly away this way and that way and come back together singing a joyful song. When I’m reminded that it might be a while until we’re together again, I recall American novelist Siri Hustvedt’s quote: “My greatest pleasure is spending time with my family.”
Yes, my greatest pleasure is my family.