Bring Shoes

I tromped down our six stairs today to see this when I scuffed snow off my shoes:


more shoes.

I’ve always liked shoes. Really. I like socks too so I guess I’m not a big barefoot person. Anywho, what I like best about shoes here is it means there are people in our house.

And that, I like a lot.

Wednesday, in my life, means French class.

But Wednesday, for others, means something else: Pokemon night.

Before I tucked myself in my room to begin the nightly charade of study, I picked up a mug and the chai latte mix. “Is that Chai tea?” a friendly voice asks from the table. Four pairs of ears perk up.

We add some hot chocolate and coffee into the mix.

No, not literally.

I like these boys, friends of Brother. We chat coffee and Band of Brothers while the hot drinks get hot.

I am reminded of the revelation I had living with Carson – I decided I should marry an extravert so I can have people around without doing all the work of entertaining them all the time. This is a good idea, no? I think so.

Carson was good at having people over. I miss him.

Regardless, there are still rumbly voices of guys playing pokemon in the little kitchen, cards slapping on the table and even the strummings of a guitar for a few minutes. I like these sounds, so though I hide around the corner I keep the door open.

I want to have people over more often.

It must be time for a Band of Brothers afternoon or a potluck and a games night. Something. It’s been a quiet house this fall. In all my going outs I must remember to bring people in.

So please, if you ever have an inkling, come and park your shoes at our door.
We need more people around here.


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