There stands your wife, your heart and centre. She is busily doing the things she does in the kitchen while your children play on the floor behind her. There is a plate of tonkatsu (pork cutlets) with the heat shimmering off of it. A big pot of nimono is on the stove after stewing down stairs all day. You remember seeing it being put together just before you left that morning. And suddenly the dreary gloom of late november is gone. You fill the water glasses while your daughter and son set out the fork, poon(son's pronounciation) and hashi (chopsticks). The wife ladles out the miso soup and you serve up a big plate of green salad with vinegar and onion dressing. At the table there is talk of what happened that day and you truly feel like you are home. At this point you pronounce to all, "this is just delightful." It didn't sound quite as goofy as it writes. I love my family. They make my life so much better its kind of silly.
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