It is the end.
It was a hot, intense weekend, and there’s still giggling down the hall, all connected between them and their aunt with tablets and cords across the bed and air mattress–a wall to wall sea of beds, pillows and quilts, fan in the doorway.
An hour ago there was a weepy phone call to their mother about how scared they were.
(Puh-leeze.)
In an hour it’ll be tomorrow.
Onward.
Nothing but love, Val