There's a kind of hush

It's incredibly quiet. I've been home alone for nearly 24 hours, with nary a sound in the house. I am so loving this. I miss Sam and Matt, and we talk so frequently that it seems they could be watching Spiderman in the other room, allowing me some time to think and write. I'm drinking wine, eating olives, and baking bread. It's a Little Women moment. I'm smiling. Did I mention that it's quiet?

I had to leave them in California behind my airport tears, but they'll be home in two more days. I was "randomly selected" for a hand-check (a sexual term, actually, that our neighbor claims his parents used on him often, as a teenager watching television on the couch with a girlfriend) at John Wayne airport. My sad emotion quelled, and became rage.

My brother, Jason, picked me up at the airport. He took my picture as I walked off the concourse, and said, loudly, "Jill, how was China???" He then whispered, "I wanted to make it seem big." He's a funny guy. I told him my hand-check story and he said, "You were crying...and about to board a plane? I would have checked you, too!" He and I stayed up drinking wine and talking until 2 a.m. He was leaving for...California this morning to, crazy guy, participate in the "Escape to Alcatraz and Try Getting Back Amongst Those Sharks and the Cold Water Triathlon."

I mean, really, he's a machine.

And now I'm home. I'm going to soak this in while I can. No TV: heaven. Lauren and I are picking Kate up at camp tomorrow morning, and we're going to find the little Southern Indiana breakfast nook of which my dad spoke, and turn up the dial on fried eggs and bacon. My step-mom has ostensibly asked be to "kid sit" while they are on vacation in Long Boat Key, although she's completely allowing me to shirk responsibility, for the most part.

We had a wonderful trip to California. My mother-in-law and I are two peas sharing one pod. We are both a little about the gossip, but she generally wins if she's talking about anyone in Hollywood. I just...don't care. We laugh a lot, though, both free-spirits.

We drove back to Santa Barbara County, where Matt and I honeymooned over three years ago (Sam's age math quiz!). This time we took Matt's parents and Sam, but it was still quite lovely. We hit a few good wineries, bought some killer wines, and Matt's dad ordered a case of the 2007 (Sam's year) Alma Rosa pinot and shipped it to us! YEEEAH! We ate at the "Sideways" (our favorite movie) restaurant we'd missed the first time, the Los Olivos Cafe & Wine Merchant. My god, but the Californians know how to cook. We walked around a million shops, bought fudge and fridge magnets.

We hung out on Newport Beach a couple of times, Matt and Sam surfed, and we saw the "bearded lady" hanging out at Perry's Pizza. Later, we drove down to Dana Point. Matt asked if I'd like to see "the scene of the crime," and I replied, "Of course!" Beautiful place. I thought maybe it would be a little weird for Matt, but he neither hesitated nor hurried, because now it's just another place. Beautiful place.

Did I mention that it's quiet here?

We rented a camp site at Doheny Beach, and Sam and Matt surfed some more. Matt and Sam hung out on the beach at sunset, playing "Tell me another truth about you." Sam is the most darling, dear-hearted child in the world. He and I were standing on the beach watching Matt surf, and he said, "Thank you for buying that hot chocolate for me this morning, Mom." I knelt down and gave him a huge hug, he touches my heart so easily. I said, "Sam, you're the best person I know." He said, "Yeah, and I'd really like the Buzz Lightyear bike for my birthday." Perfect.

The three of us built a fire and sat around until well past dusk. Sam fell asleep in the car in about 15 seconds. Matt and I kept smiling at each other. There are not always perfect days.

The final day, I wrote out my "Sam list" (eye drop (he's had pink eye), brush teeth, don't forget his DVDs on the plane), and they took me to the airport. It was crushing. Sam called me later and said, "Mom, you must come up to the "coozie" (jacuzzi)!" I explained how I was in Minneapolis now, and that my toilet at the airport, while I was organizing my suitcase, flushed 5 times. Sam said, "Mom, I'm really serious. You must come up to the the coozie." Heartbreak.

I noted four types of people now on planes: The workers (Matt-types, always on their laptops), the game players (also on laptops, but mindlessly), the book readers (me, and a handful of others left out there who read actual books), and the parents flying with children (staring off into the distance).

I miss my boys. I cannot believe they haven't called during the construction of this blog.

It's too quiet.