How is it possible that my parents' house gets smaller every time I visit? How on earth did I ever live in that tiny bedroom as a teenager? We drove the route home from my old (also now tiny) elementary school after dinner and I remember it feeling like such a long walk 25 years ago... A block with three houses felt like a mile. Tonight it was a couple strides.
More interestingly, were my parents always this entertaining, or am I just appreciating them more with time and distance? They have been married for 47 years. Perhaps they are just appreciating each other more with time. It comes across in their interactions with each other, with me, even with perfect strangers like the highly amused server at the restaurant who laughed at them mocking each other as they themselves laughed.
The moon in the cloudless eastern sky was amazing tonight. I saw stars, I hear crickets. I smell autumn. It's not quite here yet, but it's close.
Blue crabs and Old Bay seasoning are in my future. This is a good thing.
I'm starting to think that five days is perhaps too short of a visit this time.
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