Normal

It's a typical motzei Shabbos scene. She stands in her kitchen washing the dishes, sweeping the floor, putting away the challah cover, shaking out the table cloth, gathering up her kids' many articles of clothing to bring upstairs and wash.

The phone rings. And rings. And rings again. She answers it, and each time it is a different sibling, calling to say hi, how was Shabbos, who ate over, did your kids sleep, did they like the sweater we sent.

She discusses a purim party theme with one sister, and a newly purchased house with another sister, and when her mother, who has just eaten over that afternoon, calls to say how nice the meal was, they talk briefly.

Typical? Not for me. I try to avoid talking to my siblings as much as I can, and when I do, I rejoice that we managed to have a 4.5 minute conversation without fighting.

I lay on the floor playing with the baby, who is all smiles and refuses to go to sleep. The kids are in pajamas, also trying to stay out of their mother's sight and avoid having to go to bed.

It's snowing out, and I know I have to go home sometime, but I stick around because it feels so normal. Functional.

It's a typical motzei Shabbos scene, only not-so-typical for me.

I can't wait to have my own home and to create my own normal.