Thanksgiving @ 18
We probably would’ve gone anyway: mild weather in the forecast, a long weekend…perfect for giving Cynthia’s mom a hand with pre-winter tasks.
But for his eighteenth birthday, Jacob had asked us (and his grandma) if we could leave for a day or so. He wanted to have a few friends over, on his own. So on Saturday morning we left him the house and the cat, hopped in the car with his sisters and Watson in tow.
That day We ungardened and we unbuilt and we stacked chairs and tables. We ate, and we drank red wine, slept with Watson between our legs—a special treat for him. We came back on Sunday to a house unchanged, maybe even a tad cleaner than we’d left it. Is that good or bad news?
Nah…he’s a great kid…err, man.
Gotta get used to that one.
