Like a catfish dancin' on the end of my line.

This is what I've been waiting for. I remember when we bought the couch that I am sitting on - when we put it in the living room of my old home. That was something like 8 years ago, and now I am lounging in the midst of a radically different family situation. The dynamic might have been a bit off the last couple of days but, in this exact moment, time has stopped: Emily and Meghan are on the floor in front of the fireplace petting Peanut; I can smell the cooling coffee; the sound of my mother doing the dishes is in my eardrum colliding with the Springsteen that Joe put in my Itunes. I need to go take a shower so that we can begin our Thanksgiving festivities, but I am afraid to leave my seat and set time back in motion.

I'll just need a minute to swallow the lump in my throat.