Personal

Missing Them

Today I woke in my own bed. Today I creaked my way downstairs in a cold, old house. Today I ate breakfast alone.

Yesterday didn't exist: I saw two sunrises from the sky. But on Sunday, and for six days previously, I woke in my family's Adirondack outpost. I crept downstairs to the cry of "Uncle Paul!" from Isabel, and a dribbly grin from Nicholas. I spent the days playing and chatting, reading and relaxing. I laughed at Isabel's mid-Atlantic accent; I wondered where Nicholas's will be.

Not for ten years have I spent so long in the company of my sister. Never have I spent time with nephews and nieces.

And I miss them.