I did every speck of driving on this trip and I am tired. Still, I'm glad I was able to let T sidestep responsibility: he's been wrestling with a bad cold all holiday, after working straight through Christmas Eve, so it seemed cruel to ask him to drive as well.

But now we are home, and in a couple of hours the young people will catch a bus for Boston and then embark on the last leg of their trip--the overnight train to Chicago. It's been a delight to be with them for the better part of a week, a delight to know we'll be together again in New York in early January. A few weeks ago I did not have high expectations for Christmas, but J and H are clearly so happy together, and in Vermont that happiness infected everyone.

So after I get them to the bus this morning, I'll wash sheets and towels, fold up the guest bed, reclaim my study, eventually settle into my couch corner and reclaim a little quiet. We have no plans for the weekend, no plans as of yet for New Year's Eve or Day. I'll need to prep for the January zoom class, which I'll be teaching from NYC, and prep for the Monson class that will bump up against it as soon as we return. But none of this is hot-stove: once I get the house reconfigured for two, I can idle a little, and I'm looking forward to that . . . some walks, I hope; some time with Tom, I hope; some time by myself.