Sunday, December 27, 2015

the end of a holiday weekend

I am up early. I'll get the cheepers, I mumble to Ed. I may as well do chicken duty. I want to put away dishes and tidy up a bit and more importantly, I want to roll out and bake one last thing: "apple puffies," we used to call them when I first started making them for my family decades ago. They became my younger girl's favorites and though her palate has meandered to bigger and better places, I think we all feel a sentimental attachment to these puff pastry treats.

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I give Ed a few of them for breakfast and I join him for a bowl of fruit...

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... but then I dash off to my daughter's for one last family gathering -- a brunch with those who have not yet left to return home. North, south -- there's lots of driving for them.

We eat our favorites quiches which my younger girl picks up from La Baguette...

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A few last photos for you. For me, really. And they're weighted heavily toward the northern couple, not only because Snowdrop feels so very happy in their embrace...

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(For the record, she cavorts with her grandpa too, and with her Chicago uncle...

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... and Chicago aunt...)

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But Snowdrop's wanderings and my gaze return again and again to my younger daughter and her husband because, well, I'm going to miss these guys. As will Snowdrop when she wakes up from her nap and finds the house without their sweet presence.

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As will my older girl. The closeness between these two sisters is as old as their age and as solid as bedrock granite.

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Still, we have to wrap it up.

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Oh how too familiar that feeling that comes after the final long hug, the wave! Way too familiar.

(She goes off to nap, the rest pack up and head out.)

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Back at the farmhouse, Ed proposes bowling. Definitely a good idea on a day when the house is far too empty and the next family gathering -- not until next year.