Letter: Our family-room

Today is no ordinary day.

Tomorrow won’t be either.

Nor the other night.

The other night my granddaughter and I made a racetrack out of our dining-room/family-room for her little brother to tear through the various obstacles we had deviously placed in his path.

Furniture was turned over and behind it his mother, our daughter, lurked, waiting, armed with a Nerf foam blaster.

It’s probably a family room like yours, where one doorway, wall, or broom closet entry is dedicated – never to be painted – to the markings from near the floor to what is now more than half way to the ceiling with the penciled dates and the heights of all the grandchildren.

The family-room is a room of laughter, and sometimes tears, because, well, it’s a family room.

It’s where the family will gather to watch the Seahawks (family are predominantly fans) play the Packers (one of our daughters married a guy from Green Bay).

Thanksgiving won’t be on the traditional Thursday but rather on the day after because that’s when all the family can be together.

There’s been great sadness shared in this family-room. Together we’ve faced cancer, death, and together, all of us, have simply sat silent for lack of knowing what to say.

Hopefully your family has a room like that.

Maybe with a gas fireplace that adds cozy warmth; and a book case filled with children’s stories; and a rocking chair and lots of blankets to wrap the little ones in – two in her lap at a time – while grandma reads – with great expression – of fire-breathing dragons and beautiful rescued princesses.

A family room with “Laughter in the Walls” like that described by Bob Benson.

A family room with always enough room for the ever-expanding, but always returning, family.

To the family room.

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