O' Happy Days

A few days ago I arrived home from a trip up to see my sister and her baby Lucy up in Chester, CA. It's a town where there is one stoplight and an abundance of friendly faces. 10 hours in a car with my parents and my baby had me scared, but it worked out beautifully. Baby Vincent was a peach. Either slept or smiled at Pooh the entire time, only fussing at me to pull over and feed him.

I spent 8 days basking in 85 degree weather, laying in a hammock with my son, walking to Pine Shack to gobble a brownie sundae or drink a glass of lemonade, making delicious dinners, even running through the sprinklers at a nearby park. It was perfect. I cuddled and cooed with my niece, watch her grow in just 8 days. Listened to the babies laugh, and listened to the babies cry. Chatted with my sister who I knew I missed, but it became painstakingly clear just how much.
Days were spent reminiscent of a paperback English novel, complete with large straw hats, except the woman (me, my sister and my mom) tended to have a more colorful vocabulary.
I came back refreshed. But sad. I missed my sister, I missed Lucy. I longed to watch her grow day in and day out as I do Vincent. I missed having a house full of noise, yelling, laughing, cooking, one big family, all stuffed under one roof, driving each other crazy, bitching, smiling, loving each other tens times over.

My family is the dearest thing in my life. I am one of a lucky few.