Home

I'm dripping with cliche when I say the best part of any trip is coming home. A half hour after walking through the door yesterday from Halifax and I was in a state of bliss.

Henry sat at the kitchen table working on a puzzle. Erin flitted in and out of the kitchen putting the flotsam of our trip back where it collectively belongs. Jane stood on her footstool beside me at the kitchen counter helping me mix pancakes for our Welcome Home Supper. I think it was Henry who suggested putting Elvis Costello on, genius child that he is.

Jane wiggled her little rump along to "Pump it Up." Henry, so glad to be home, sat shaking in his seat.

Erin ran in during "Radio Radio" just to give me an evil smirk while delivering the line:

And the radio is in the hands of such a lot of fools trying to anaesthetise the way that you feel

All is right. Drip, drip, drip.