is family. I sit here on a Sunday evening after cleaning house, and carpets, and putting away books and clutter and I thought, “I just want a family of my own where we are together and I cook Sunday dinner.” I think my need is as basic as that. Sunday dinner. Saturday movies….Friday night cocktails…..Monday night meatloaf. I want to sit on a rainy Saturday reading quietly after we’ve spent an hour wandering in a bookstore.
Family. Not just infringing upon my sister and her family….because a great deal of the time I feel like the fifth wheel. But the sheer normalcy is what I miss….or maybe the ability to show and share love doing the most mundane tasks.
I’ve never thought of family with anyone other than W. I never imagined sharing my entire life, warts and all, with anyone else.
I no longer need bells and whistles, I no longer need anything other than a small, comfortable, life. I’m not sure why the sense of family hits me on a Sunday…maybe because, growing up, Sunday was spent together from the time we went to morning Mass, through the afternoon, helping with Sunday dinner, homework, showers, bed.