A holiday is like a wave; it races up from afar, engulfs and buoys us, then retreats. When family is scattered, traveling is the best way to stay close. So we traveled, and we celebrated, together. Now the wave has receded. We are all home.
But we have the memories of being together. The yellow building on the right is where we went for lunch on Saturday, just the five of us, sitting at a tiny table meant for four in a cramped place that accommodates 30 at the very most. It reminded me of our dinner table on a good night: the inside jokes, the rolling of eyes, the togetherness. I miss it already.