Little Dirty Feet

This morning I noticed there were footprints on my hallway entry floor. Dirt footprints left behind by my tiny nieces who left this morning with their parents and big brother to drive back to Ohio and take with them all their giggles and their stuffies, shoved into their arms after we were done hugging goodbye. 

My brother and sister-in-law expressed regret over waiting to eat their favorite Himalayan dish at the food truck down the street until last night because it meant they couldn't eat it again before they left. My son and my nephew stayed up until midnight trying to squeeze in all the time they could together. My 16-year-old daughter slept between her two tiny cousins because she promised them a sleepover last night which meant instead of sleeping on separate beds in the same room, they slept on the same bed in the same room. 

We were all just grasping our last hours together. Ohio is far away and we all feel it. 

The pile of shoes by the front door is gone. Crocs, Nikes, hiking shoes left with their owners. The house is quiet and empty. I cleaned up the dirty foot prints and immediately regretted it. To have family is a gift. To love them this much is a greater gift. 

To have to say goodbye blows.