The End (But Not Really).

We hugged Bob and Bebe goodbye and came back into the house. I filled the tub with hot water and rested motionless in a bath for some time, only my eyes and nose above water, my hair floating around my head, ears full of a deep, muffled nothingness, while something like this (see video) passed through my mind. After a good sob and an even better scrubbing, I hopped out onto the dense bleached-white rug with bare feet, wrapped myself in a thick, oversized towel, and sighed. Walking out of the bathroom, my hand grazed the wall-plate (with its three oddly arranged switches) to turn off the light in the natural way that only the master of a house would know. And in that humbled manner with which the cradle of the heart has a way of responding, the truth of the moment was tangible: We were, finally, home.