No place like it

I have a kitchen full of unwashed dishes. Some have been in their piles since Thursday.

But Joe is working today, so we won't be able to wash them side by side this morning or afternoon, one handling the soap and the other wiping down counters, or making faces at the baby, or sweeping, or putting on good songs. And though the neighbor kids came over yesterday and filled the house with paper airplanes (I taught them how to make good ones), and though I know there are friends who might be able to talk on the phone, the thought of staying in today is a quiet one, and I realize I have no real, close friends here.

So I am putting the baby in the car and going to Cloverly, where my grandmother is full of old stories and my parents are happy to listen on a shady deck. It's still home, though this is too, and I'm always welcome both places, I and my daughter both.

I will be back to make dinner. And then the pile of dishes will be so big, well, we will figure something out, or maybe we will just leave them 'til Monday, hah, and dance a dance to celebrate. (But we almost certainly won't, because that might drive us a bit too crazy.)