The House Is Still Half-Full

December 26, a morning of rude awakenings. I’ve mentioned how the residents of Greenhill Manor are optimists, right?

At 5:30 am, Graham rolled out of bed, turned on roughly seventy-five percent of the lights in the house, and headed out for his run. He has a big race on the 27th, and he had to work today at Chick-Fil-A starting at 8 am. We tried suggesting he do his run after work, but everything must be done on the rigid schedule Graham keeps in his mind. If it means a 5:30 am run during school vacation, that’s what it means.

The trash was overflowing so badly I left two bags beside it in the garage. Lauren insisted that we take the trash up to the curb—all the trash, even the two extras. Pretty sure the frustrated trash guys will pitch it onto our lawn, but Lauren won’t care because I will have to clean it up. The recycling was also overflowing, and Lauren said one tactic we could deploy was to use one of the large Christmas boxes as an additional recycling container. I don’t think that’s how things work, but that’s what we’re doing.

The dishwasher was also packed to the brim from the effects of seven people, and even after wedging in every possible dish in every possible space, we still had a sink full of dirty dishes. That did not deter Grant who, before hitting the road with Katy and Lindsay, cooked a gourmet breakfast using every cutting board, two pans, three knives, two spatulas, four burners, and who-knows-how-many plates and serving dishes. He also commented to Lucia, “I can tell Mom and Dad don’t cook much anymore.”

This is false. We cook most nights. What we don’t do is cook for a nose guard much anymore.

Dobby thought he was off to a great start—he got his full two-mile walk followed by his full three-mile run. But his joy quickly turned to worry when I took him to the car and started to drive. His worry turned to horrified reality when we arrived at the groomer. Three years in now of going every six weeks, and Every. Single. Time. is a fresh new horror to be met with shuddering, crying, and pleas for rescue. He even pouts about it—he will often avoid whoever took him for about twenty-four hours.

When I got back from dropping Dobby, Chef Grant had wrapped up breakfast, and Katy and Lindsay had finished loading their car. As married adults, Grant and Katy had to get back to work; as a wrestler still in season, Lindsay had to get back to training. This set off a round of goodbyes that culminated with Lucia crying.

“I hate that I won’t see you till summer,” she told Lindsay.

“Me too,” said Lindsay.

“Why aren’t you crying?” Lucia said. “Am I that annoying?”

Lindsay laughed. “I’ll probably cry later.”

“I’ll call you every day,” Lu said.

“Yes, you will,” said Linds.

“Well, sometimes you call me too. It’s not all me.”

“I know that.”

When Lindsay moved to hug me, I pretended to bawl, and she pulled back to see if my tears were real. Then she laughed.

At times like this, I am reminded of my own departure to college. When the car was loaded, we gathered in the family room for hugs. My brother and I embraced and both cried. I looked over at my dad who was smiling, almost laughing.

“What are you smiling about?” I said.

“I’m glad we have a family that loves each other so much that it hurts this bad to say goodbye.”

And I am glad of that, too. Later this evening, Lu will be on her way too. She’s headed to Florida to meet her boyfriend’s family, and then she will go back to Hawaii for her final semester of her bachelor’s degree. We will be back to three of us in the house, but it’s cool, right? The house is still half-full.