A Weird Way to Happy

So the GFYO speaks from the back of my car. It's late and his sisters are giddy.

We'd gone to a "bon voyage" for the Kid's parents, a send-off to retirement for a paid-for house in Florida. Which apparently means bawling and wailing and sobbing of the grown ups. Which fucking pisses me off.

I do not understand it, but I try: the Kid says they have lived in one place forever. I mention telephones and airplanes and email and he hugs me. They keep crying. A drunken uncle stumbles and takes out three kids like pin balls. I say I want to go: it's so morose. The Kid agrees and we split.

My husband is the only one, besides me, who doesn't cry. Somehow, despite his birth, he knows that change is the best part of being human and that, after all, we adapt. He kisses his mother, he hugs his dad. 

I crawl into him when I get the chance: we agree after all.