Do you know what I love best about the days when everyone -- or, in our case, almost everyone (Andrew, unable to leave school, was MIA this Labor Day) -- has gathered for a major American long-weekend holiday?
It's not the frenzy of phone calls that go back and forth -- "Are you all packed up to leave from work or do you have to go back home before setting out?" ... "What time did you get on the road? ... "Did you take Tuesday off?" ... "How long can you stay?" ... "What time are you getting here?" -- many days prior to the day, spine-tingling though those are.
It's not the furious planning of meals and events and moments and celebrations that everyone will enjoy, and the making of lists and the researching of recipes and the eager shopping for all required ingredients, and the unfolding of certain surprises, thrilling though that certainly is.
It's not the laundry that needs to be done or the beds that need to be changed or towels that need to be washed or the dusting and cleaning and rearranging that must be accomplished, absorbing though all of the above can be, in its own way.
It's not the experience of counting the hours until the longed-for ones are due to arrive, then hearing the happy beep-beep-beep of the door alarm when one of the select few who know all the codes enters the house, home again, safe in ... then waiting in butterfly-tummied anticipation until the next essential individual opens the door and crosses the floor and you get to feast your eyes on one beloved face after the other, those for whom you are always so hungry ... enchanting as that experience is sure to be.
What I love best is the morning of the actual holiday when everyone has arrived -- albeit some having straggled in very late the night before -- and there's no need to get up particularly early because your ducks are all lined up neat and straight as can be, so you rest a little longer and when you awaken there is the sound of those you love in the house around you, and someone has made coffee and it smells so good, and some are already outside inhaling the exquisite freedom of a non-desk day.
It's sending the mother of your grandchildren to the mall for a mini-shopping spree slash beauty makeover because said eldest daughter is turning thirty on September the ninth and you (together with her sisters) have decided it is time for her to graduate from easy breezy Cover Girl to big-girl makeup.
That's when you are reminded that your grandchildren are heavy drinkers, which may explain why they stagger so much.
It's the endless adventure of simply watching them exist ...
... and taking time to stare at them staring out of windows at their loving Papaw making home repairs -- don't ask why he was so engaged on a holiday because it's a long story and not in the least interesting -- resulting in an endless stream of whys.
Then it's the simple but tasty meal you have the luxury of preparing for your assembled darlings, and the intermittent phone calls that come from your absent only son telling you that he wishes he were here where he utterly belongs, and being his lifeline for a game of Trivial Pursuit he's playing with a most fortunate coed, and his saying each time he calls that he loves and misses you.
Then it's feting your firstborn on an important birthday and talking about the time of day she was born (seven forty-five on a balmy Tuesday morning), and watching her smile as she blows out thirty candles with the poise and grace you've always associated with her even from childhood, and as the remembrances that were planned by all who cherish her best and most are revealed one by one.
And it's marveling aloud at the cost of primo cosmetics but being thankful that where there are resources to be pooled, most objections can be overcome and it's so much fun. It's girl-talking over formulas and brushes and colors and techniques, and just in general magpie-ing it up so that the men are silent because what can they possibly add to a discussion about these particular things?
Then it's perching on the business end of the diving board, splashing your feet, photographing the apres-lunch last swim of the summer when the water temperature is hovering just under seventy degrees but the ambient temp is around ninety and the pool is in direct sun for an ever-shrinking window, and it's still fairly humid but not near as much because, as it is wont to do in early fall, the full air is gradually effacing into what will become winter's thin aching breath.
And instead of the insistent chirr of thousands of cicadas, you hear that high-pitched sound the origin of which you can never quite figure out, but it's punctuated with joyous splashing and frequent laughter so you don't let it make you sad.
Time enough for that tomorrow and many days after, when empty fills the space and all that remains is the mysterious autumnal sky-ringing.
It's supervising the never-ending quest of the grandchildren to get up close and personal with an old and fragile dog who really does not care for people under the age of consent, and being proud of said minors -- both for their sweet obedience and their respect for him.
Even when all the dog (who, by the way, just so you know, appears in the September-October 2010 issue of Chihuahua Connection along with my article Three Degrees of Chihuahua Separation) does is plant his bad self on TG's newly-flipped and not-yet-stained deck boards, and pant.
Or when, the main part of this waning day over, said magazine fodder -- who maybe likes the attentions of kids more than he's willing to admit -- joins Allissa at the door to watch her daddy corral the soggy towels, in effect putting summer to bed.
Photo Erica Weber 2010
It's knowing that, God in His mercy and faithfulness willing, the days ahead will yield many more opportunities to gather and celebrate, to lavish our familial love each upon all the others.
It's realizing that even if time is up and we don't know it, even if nothing will ever again be as near-perfect as it was today, the beauty of our choices and the fruit of our collective endeavors has never been more keenly appreciated.
It's enjoying each one until the last ones drive away before first light, and what's left is remembering. That, and waiting for your precious blessings to crowd your eager arms once again.
>+<>+<>+<>+<>+<
What though the sea with waves continual
Do eat the earth, it is no more at all:
Nor is the earth the less, or loseth ought,
For whatsoever from one place doth fall,
Is with the tide unto another brought:
For there is nothing lost, that may be found, if sought.
From The Faerie Queene by Edmund Spenser
![Hold Back the Dawn [DVD] Charles Boyer; Olivia de Havilland; Paulette Goddard](http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41AkExBJQsL._SL75_.jpg)
Wednesday, September 8, 2010 at 11:44AM 
Here are ten more pictures I took of things I enjoyed looking at on my recent trip to beautiful and charming Aiken, South Carolina.
