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Mondays Mean More: Family

There are few things in my life that mean more to me than my family.

I was reminded of this by the level of disappointment I felt at the 5 hour delay in arriving in Ontario yesterday. It wasn't just about a change in plans, or wondering what to do for 3 hours in an airport. I had specifically planned to fly out early so that I could enjoy an evening of family. Having that taken away was harder than I thought, especially since I had seen so much of my family this summer.

But the little bit of time I had with them was better than none at all. I love a lot of things about my family.

I love that Grampie tells the same four stories every time I see him, but they still make me cry. At 90 years old, he walks for an hour every day, recently had heart surgery, and is in the middle of cataract removal (one down, one to go). And he cries when he talks about missing his wife of 62 years.

I love that my nephew can say "pterodactyl." Every time I talk to the family I hear more stories about him. How he sings Veggie Tales. How he runs up to my sister for a hug. How he takes care of "Aunt Beth's Dolly" and snuggles with it when he naps at my parents'. I love that he had to give me another kiss before he left, and that he looked genuinely sad when my mom said he wouldn't see me for a long time.

I love that my sister laughed with me, talked with me, lent me pyjamas and socks. She listened to me chatter the whole drive from Toronto, even though she had to be up early to work in the morning. She offered to jump on me when she came in my "bedroom" to say goodbye.

I love that my mom started wondering about the boys in my life before we were even home. We went for brunch this morning and talked about all manner of things, all of them not related to dating. I love that too.

I love that my dad didn't let me hug him for fear of giving me "The Hiney," a nickname for H1N1 that my friend Laura introduced me to, and which I have just introduced to Ontario. But he made a joke about his recently returned beard, and I insisted that we could be in the same room without mortal danger to my life.

I love that my sister-in-law had Jake all ready to go when we came to get him, that she's a great mother, and that she always leaves me wishing I had more time to chat.

(I didn't love that my brothers weren't available for a visit. One, I left in BC. The other was sleeping before a night shift. Sadness.)


afro-chick said…
hee hee.
Sarah said…
I love that my sister blogs regularly about her thoughts and experiences!

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