No Place Like Home

Mark left for Massachusetts this morning, where he, his mother and siblings will deliver his grandmother's ashes to their final resting place next to her husband Harry. He has not been simply "son and brother" since we got married 22 years ago.

His trip marks the final leg of the Holt's "Four Solo Vacations" Summer Tour, a lonely tour, to be sure.

Still, I'm glad Mark gets to focus on those old roles for a few days, even if it makes me feel a bit discombobulated. I may pretend to be an adventurer, but what I really like to do is be home with my family. And the rest of the Holts generally follow suit.

Time will tell if this "steady-Eddy, close-to-home" approach will serve our children well. But two things happened tonight that made me think that, at the very least, we probably haven't done permanent harm to them.

First, Allison told me about a middle-school friend who switched schools this year, coming to Lincoln High from a cross-town rival. Her friend is happy at the High, Allison said. "Doesn't that make you feel good about where you go to school?" I asked her.

"If I made a list of the best decisions I've ever made in my life, going to Lincoln High would be on that list," she said. I almost drove off the road.

An hour later, Eric called, in need of a phone number. We chatted a bit, me trying hard not to ask too many questions or sound too excited that we were talking. It was a nice conversation. A short one, too. And, as it wrapped up, Eric uttered something he's said to Mark and me more and more these days.

"Love you."

Neither of these, I know, is a scientific measuring stick of current or future success, yet each left me feeling grateful for the steadiness that is my children. It's good to know that, even after the Summer of Four Solo Vacations, we still are like salmon, patiently swimming our way back upstream, to this place we call "home."