My sons — Kevin, Chris, and Keith — have spent the previous week with us, and we’ve partyied hardy. Beer, cookouts, more beer, bonfires, more beer, trips around town, yes — more beer, communing with Earl’s side of the family. It’s been a week of memory-making. But now it’s coming to a close.
Keith and Chris left yesterday. All of a sudden the volume level in the house decreased ten fold. The beer consumption decreased as well. I wanted to run out the front door as they drove off and beg them to return. But it was not possible.
Tonight Kevin takes Amtrak to New York City where he and his brothers will continue the party without Earl and me. I don’t begrudge any of them because it’s time Earl and I returned to our own lives. But I know that tomorrow I’ll hear footsteps in the carpet where they came and went for the past week. I’ll hear them removing their shoes at the back door and padding across the kitchen floor. I’ll hear them opening the refrigerator and closing it. I’ll hear Chris exclaiming how he thinks our house is magical and Keith saying volumes in his silence. I’ll also hear Kevin talking to his girlfriend back in Fargo, wishing she were here.
It’s like this whenever we’ve had a wonderful time and beloved guests depart. It’s a legacy, both joyful and painful, they leave behind as we all move toward resuming our regular lives.
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