It's Friday night, and my heart is doing a modest dance of joy—Mom is home from the hospital, finally. We did the intake interview with hospice this afternoon, a lot of which was a repeat of the meeting we had earlier in the week; I found myself a little impatient at their chattiness, but I guess it comes with the territory. She and Dad and I spent the rest of the day hanging out in the living room, talking, eating dinner together, and except for the 800-lb. gorilla sitting in the room, it was just like before. I've decided to just feed him bananas for now, since it's clear he won't be leaving.

Tomorrow my brother comes over, and while it will no doubt be a great visit, there is now this little voice that always whispers to me, "Is this the last _______________?" around lots of things, and it's a little louder as I try to decide whether or not to go home on Tuesday as originally scheduled. I miss my own life too, as important as it feels right now to be here, and the question of how flexible work can really be also looms a bit. But those are things to think about tomorrow. Right now it's time to read and try to get myself to sleep.