the graduate

Our house is empty now. The floor where Mel blew up her Aerobed every night is now strikingly bare. LB's door closes and opens in its usual manner now that Kaitlin's air mattress is no longer there, either. There are little, welcome reminders of both of them in the fridge. Skim? Who in this house drinks skim? Or plain soy milk, for that matter? Or eats raw kale? The couch where my aunt and uncle, our moms, and my dad sat is once again strewn with pillows and junk mail and probably some handwritten lists, too. It was, for the most part, a lovely time and one that is unlikely to ever be repeated, which makes me a little sad. Some pictures: