Prodigal Son

The prodigal son has returned home after his visit with the grandparents, and after a bit of an I-need-to-adjust-again bout of fighting with Mother and Brother, the husband managed to calm everyone down, poured me some vino rosso, and left me cooking in the kitchen, alone.
It was Bliss.

I missed the little bugger, even if I promptly  sent him to his room as soon as we got home.
Glad he's home though, and the knowledge that he slept under my roof again last night, gave me comfort. 

It was a run-around day yesterday, driving to Tilburg's station to pick up Grandma & Son#1 after some poor soul gave his life to the Railway Lines, upsetting the entire southern rail network and most awfully, the poor train driver.

Sigh.
There is always an outcome, don't you ever forget that, and even the really crappy things disappear or at least lessen in intensity after a while.  
They really do.  
Am living proof.




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