This is currently the most beautiful word in the English language to me. It was hard to be away from Turbo when we got the news about Manlegs’s grandpa passing away. It was harder for her. The death of a family member is scary enough for kids, but when something like that happens and the parents are also away it’s even scarier for them.
We couldn’t get home fast enough today, and the hug from Turbo when we walked in the door was full of love, full of heartbreak, and full of an exhausted sort of relief that we came back to her.
It’s interesting, but whenever someone leaves, our little family always says, “Come back to me” when the departing party is heading for the door. I say it when Manlegs heads out for a day of snowboarding. He says it to me when I go into the mountains alone. Sierra says it when we both leave for shows. We say it as a reminder; we say it because our home is our family. Even though our car parked in our standard spot, even though I walked in the house tonight and dumped my bags, even though I took my shoes off when I came in the door, I wasn’t home until I had her in my arms. I wasn’t home until I came back to her.