Letter: I love it when they're home for Christmas

The house looks like the day after a medieval jousting tournament. Decorations and set pieces that were pristine are slightly askew as though a gust of wind went through. Edible delicacies that seemed so exotic, now feel like miniature hangovers. The bottles of hooch previously lined up, breathing and looking handsome are out in the blue box, frosted with the cold. An atmosphere of tattered glory. 

The kids were home this past week. They came in all smiles, hugs, laughter and that good smell from being out in the winter weather. Just great. In no time at all they made themselves at home and by golly did they ever.

Starting the next day, the laundry room seemed to be in operation 24/7. It's clear there is a directive that every shower simply must drain the hot water tank and that a fresh towel is required no matter how minor the ablution. Disappearing with their friends and coming in (loudly) during the wee hours of the morning. Opening the fridge door and grumbling, what is there to eat? How does one address that question when the answer is obviously " everything"? And of course, to walk into their rooms to find the lights on and even their windows inexplicably open — a time honoured source of pure joy for every dad. 

Then comes yesterday, when after thoroughly feasting, binging and scorching, they on leathery wings glide back to their lives. Leaving us with that wistful feeling, which is just fancy talk for "this sucks".

Glad they were here and I'd happily have my dragons home tonight if I could.

Douglas Miller
Greater Sudbury