With Thanksgiving approaching here in the U.S., the house is suddenly filled like an over-stuffed sausage...a bit like when some mentally-haywire person insists on conversing from a distance that invades your personal space.
The house is of a modest size and was comfortable enough when the kids were three feet tall. Now, with everyone sporting an adult physique, it's an airplane bathroom. The sensation oscillates between "cozy" and "cramped."
Both sons are well-muscled and also two or three or four inches above six feet. My daughter has the moves and manners and physique of a middling-height woman. And her husband, an engineer who does competitive weight lifting is ... enormous.
When the 'kids' are all off and about their lives, the place feels vaguely "empty." When they are here, as now when everyone is gearing up for a trip to New Jersey and a family get-together, the house feels "full."
Same place, different day.
Ain't that the truth?