I arrived home to all things familiar, dry air, house, weeds, children watching screens, boxes piled in my office so I can put them away, email waiting, and ants foraging on the kitchen floor. This year there is a particularly thriving ant colony, which is now doomed because I got home, noticed them, and have fed them bait. By Tuesday they’ll be gone. Hopefully by the end of this week the weeds and boxes will also be absent and the kids will be varying their daily activities a bit more.
I walked in the door and was greeted with “Oh, Hi Mom.” Hardly an enthusiastic homecoming. Yet it demonstrates that they were not traumatized by anything that happened while I was gone. Instead they were mostly comfortable and are thus not inclined to be clingy. This is good, because back to normal is my biggest hope for the week. Instead of effusive hugs upon me entering the house, the kids are in their own time and ways, letting me know that they missed me and telling me about their adventures.
It was hard to let go of retreat thoughts, but as the evening continued I began do. My mind has begun to consider the things of next week, the hundred ways I need to put my house into order and what I hope to accomplish. It feels strange to not have some huge deadline to meet in the next week. Instead I can begin to take care of all the small neglected things. Like the ants.