Fullness is two car seats, a week’s worth of luggage, a set of golf clubs, a baby stroller and a man who is 6’5″ in a mid-sized sedan for five-and-a-half hours.
It is Santa Fe Grille’s flaming cheese, two baskets of chips and salsa, and three generations of family in a hot restaurant in my husband’s hometown.
It is my parents’ house full of family and friends gathering to anticipate yet another brand-new baby, celebrating in style with chocolate-covered strawberries and sentimentality.
It is a two-car caravan transporting eight people to attend the Sunday service at the church I grew up in for the first time in over a year. It is a 2am conversation with my baby sister and a belly ache from laughing so hard. It is laying beside my ridiculously pregnant older sister, my own new daughter fast asleep between us. It is my father and my son, BFFs, bonding over paper airplanes and brand-new toys. It is my mother once again fulfilling and relishing her divine role as nurturer and caretaker. It is being home again, being taken care of, being hilarious, nourished, invited, comfortable, nostalgic and enjoyed in the home that holds so much.
It is the interconnecting threads of family, woven with memory and laced with a new and brilliant future, as the children grow into parents and the parents revel as grandparents and resident spoilers. It is my past and my present converging in a beautiful, colorful, hysterical, crowded tapestry.
(And it might also be two platefuls at an Indian buffet.)