Tomorrow (today, I suppose) is going to be a tough day. In 10 hours, I'm going to have to go through the once-every-three-month ritual of tearing Ethan away from his grandparents at the airport and watch my mom sob as she walks away, while my dad tries to be strong and not break down himself. All the while feeling guilty for living 3000 miles away, despite the fact that I am back in my ancestral town, and it's my parents who moved away when I was a kid and never returned (although they tried REALLY hard to get back).
It's been a good visit. But I'm worn out. From socializing all the time, from sharing a room with Ethan, from the giant piles of dishes and laundry that two extra people add to a household.
I should go to bed so that I'm not completely exhausted on top of everything else. But that would be too logical.