The Husband has two sisters, AdventureGirl and GlamourGirl. They, and his mother, Mother-in-Love, are all here in our house for the week, coming from Tucson, Vegas and Corpus Christi. I have to be honest …
I absolutely love it.
They are modern women with careers and lives, but they are following an ancient tradition. In times of illness, the women of the family would leave their own homes to go be where they were most needed. They would clean, cook, take care of children, and nurture the ill and their parents.
So have ours done. Figuring out the mounds of laundry we produce, shopping for shoes and giant foam balls for science projects. Buying a cooler for us to have in the hospital, taking messages from doctors, playing and playing and playing with their inexhaustible nephew and nieces. Park with the kids, walk with the dog. Taking The Princess and Bo Peep to the store so that they would have gifts to give The Boy on his birthday. Doing everything, so that I can call doctors and research regimens and go to appointments. And cry. They cry with me, too.
Driving home last night, seeing their cars parked around the house, it was as if seeing a protective brigade around our house. Walking in the front door, hearing their voices, it was as if walking into an embrace.
At staggered times, they will return to their homes, leaving us in the care of the home team, my friends whom they’ve gotten to know as they find room for their casseroles, muffins and soups.
These are the women of my family, the women of my village.
May you be so blessed as I.