My son arrives home from college tonight, a short break between the winter and spring term.
Today, after work, I will bake his favorite cookies, give his room a quick clean, and leave a small gift for him on his bedside table, a book he's been wanting to read.
And for the next week I'll bask in his stories about school, friends, his current favorite music. I'll listen to him play the piano and the house will be filled with waltzes and sonatas (or the music from Final Fantasy XI). I'll tease him about how much longer his hair is since the last time I saw him. I will celebrate how big his world has become and how easily he moves through that world.
I'll notice the shoes on the floor, the crumbs on the counter, the unmade bed, the coat and books strewn everywhere, but I won't complain. Because for a few days, my son will be home and the house will be filled with certain, reckless joy.