getting older

It used to be, when I was returning from a week at camp or a semester at school or a few years living in another state, that I'd get really excited to see what changes had been made to my parents' house. Whether it was new plantings in the front garden or new furniture or paint or a new computer, the anticipation and expectation would build as I approached the house, to be followed by disappointment if I didn't see something different upon arrival. Now that I'm older, I experience the exact same thing every day when I come home from work, except now I just hope that the sink will be empty.