Well, ok then. I walked to the front door. Generally, if you aren’t expecting someone, a knock on the door at 10pm isn’t a good thing. I warily opened the door and hid behind it while only poking my face out–because, you know, if someone has a gun the first target you want them to see is your face.

“Yes?”

A girl stood in front of me with two small boxes. I looked at her in confusion, then to her red hat and to her car. “Did you happen to place an order for some cinnamon sticks? I’ve misplaced the name, but I’m always over here in this neighborhood delivering something to you guys, so I thought it MUST be the Blueshelled house! When I called my store, they confirmed it was the Blueshelled house!”

As I stood there trying to decide if I should be amused at the situation, offended by the implication that we live on Pizza Hut or happy that we are favored customers. She went on, “Gosh, I have an extra box of these anyway and I’m not going to find their owners in time. We’ll have to give the other people a refund. Would you like a box of these?”

In fairness to the sweet Pizza Hut girl, AJ believes the nice lady at the McDonald’s Drive Thru is our personal chef and that Pizza is a food group. “Well, sure! Thanks!”

So, thank you, Pizza Hut, for our late night snack on Friday night. It was well-appreciated by a family of sick people who longed for some cinnamon stick sweetness. There is something to be said for being a favored customer after all.

As expected, seeing my family had a calming, cathartic effect on me. It has taken many years for home trips not to stress me out, but my relationships there are finally where I feel like they need to be and I could have stayed much longer this go around. Sometimes you just want your mommy and your sissy. I think the whole trip can be summed up in these three pictures.

Sweet

Comforting

Loving