The everyday in family

I am a little dizzy.

I press my face against the leather sofa; it’s cool to the touch and slows my spinning head.

I inhale deeply, searching for some kind of lingering leather smell that may be left, but after all the years in ownership, it’s gone.

It’s rough, thick skin is comforting, the knowledge that in years to come it will still be here, in our living room, a comfortable place to curl up and read or write – in sickness or in health.

I feel a little feverish again, trying to concentrate on my typing; I look from my place in the family room into the kitchen where Hank is preparing dinner.

Again.

He has had to do everything for the past week while I have been ill.

Ethan chatters on happily from the kitchen table, where I can’t see,

“Look what I did.”

“Hmm?”

“I made another battleship, this one has two laser guys – This one is better, he is a commando.”

“Ahhh.”

I watch Hank turn from the stove to the table,

“Oh yes I see, very nice Ebert.”

“No no. You didn’t see the special details.”

Hank is back to cooking again.

“Mmmmm.”

“Hankbert.”

“Yes.”

“The details. You didn’t see the details.”

Hank is making sushi tonight, one of my favorites. And something that he always makes to go along with that is Tamago, what he is working on currently.

The smell of the sugar and soy sauce in the skillet float through the house and invite me to feel better.

Ethan and Hank are talking about battleships.

Suddenly my laptop is flipped upside down and I have a small boy in my lap.

“Hi Mom.”

“Hi Ethan.”

“Watcha doin?”

“Oh, I’m writing a little bit.”

“Oh. “

He grins at me, and stands up

“See my necklace?”

I return my computer to my lap and look at the shiny green slime dangling from his neck.

“Oh yes.”

“Ha! It’s silly Putty Mom. Did you guess that?”

“I thought it was alien snot.”

Ethan roars with laughter.

“Either way, it’s very fancy-pancy of you Ebert.”

Ethan tries to stare at his neck,

“Yes, I like it – and I just need to add some more…. Details.”

Details, I have figured out, is the word of the evening, as Ethan continues to use it in every way possible.

It isn’t much longer before Hank calls us for dinner.

The dinner table is a little quieter than normal, silence broken into by the click clacking of chop sticks.

“Everyone ok?”

Hank gives us a tired smile.

We return to him the same.

It’s the end of a very long week, and the eve before the beginning of another.

“Dinner is delicious.” I offer up.

“Oh yeah, it’s delicious and nutritious!”

Ethan echoes.

And somehow that’s enough.

Just being there, eating dinner as a family.

No, there’s no stimulating conversation tonight, it isn’t a picture in TIME magazine.

I don’t think it was heartwarming, and nothing profound was said.

But it is the nights like tonight that make up the constant in our family.

It was someone cooking a delicious meal in spite of their exhaustion, and all three of us sitting down to eat it, in spite of ‘how we felt’ to enjoy it together.

For everything it wasn’t, it was ironically so much more.

No Saturday night at the Champions, but a Sunday to end a very long week?

It was perfect.