Welcome Home by Debbie Hodge | Supplies: Country Carnival by Celeste Knight and Robyn Meierotto; Country Fair by Dana Mogstad; Bebas Neue; Andrea Script II fonts
Joshua, We are all so happy to have you home from 2 weeks at Video Game Design Camp at Bentley Universtity-- and each in our own way just as we each missed you in our own way.
As I look at these photos I realize I don’t know what’s being said. I dropped you at home and went to get Isaac from Tech Camp. I know we came how to find you and Dad on the sofa looking at his new tablet. I know Isaac was disappointed about the assignments he’d drawn for tech camp next week (he’d hoped for prototyping but was assigned “the science of ‘stuff’) and I see Isaac rubbing your head in the way I’ve always seen YOU do to him -- the big brother embracing the younger.
You are tired. He’s so happy to see you. Oh, how we missed you.
I think of my own preparations for your return (cleaning your room this morning and then driving to Waltham, the traffic backed up for 15+ miles on either side approaching Route 93) and the happiness I felt to see you once the campers in your hall helped me find you.
I could feel it spreading out in a smile and I know I stopped myself from hugging you. On the way home, you gave me the details I really needed -- who you spent time with and how you felt about your work and what the daily logistics were -- while demurring when it came to the details you were too tired to deal with (you said you’d give me the script to the game your team wrote when I asked about your project). We connected over my discovery of the zombie apocalypse TV series “The Walking Dead” and you cracked me up with the details of Red Dead Redemption’s “western” genre take on a zombie story and we listened to Cowboy Bebop music and the 40s songs from another video game, Fall Out.
I do know that you are “oh-so-tired” and wanting to go to your own bed and, yet, I see you understanding that this is the time to be with family just a big longer.
A half-hour later, Dad took a bike ride and I went upstairs to check on work and when I came back out you were in your own bed, drowsy, insisting you didn’t want dinner, that you’d been eating “3 meals a day for way too many days” and telling me you were “tired of eating.” I urged you to put on pajamas. I found Isaac asleep on the sofa in the den and woke him to take off his damp swim clothes and put on pajamas, too.
Everyone is home and everyone is tired and tomorrow is a new day together again.