Home at last, home at last

Remember this? This was a week ago, but so goes the weather in north Florida: tonight it rains, as it has all day, and sleet or snow are predicted after midnight. It won't accumulate, of course, because the ground stays too warm here, but the very idea of snow kind of gives us fluttery tummies, and also makes us feel slightly nauseated. Still, it can always be worse. My older son, away in Charleston in the Navy, is seeing something else entirely through this windshield.

With his usual astonishing sense of timing, he called tonight during the middle of our first visit with Katie since her arrival home from several months in Africa. She was here, this treasured sister without whom my heart is not complete; she was curled up with me watching The Bitter Tea of General Yen, from 1933, with Barbara Stanwyck, and do you think I took one picture? Of course I didn't. But I will, my loves, for though I have half-sisters of my own blood and friends, as I have told you, who are more riches than gold to me, there is nothing quite like having Katie home. We sat by the fire, we had a glass of wine, we put hummus on pita bread, and I made that lovely cucumber stuff with yogurt. Rodney ran the projector, er, TV. Katie and I were just grateful, and relaxed, and happy. She is at home for the wedding of her son, and there are many more stories, my loves, many more, but for tonight I am grateful for fire, family and friendship and it's enough.