Finn's getting quite spoiled this week.
His "Grammie Jan" (my mom) is up from her home in Connecticut and he's spending hours being completely spoiled by her and her partner while slowly luring them - as he does with everyone - into his web from which none can escape.
Not that we want to.
It's so nice to see them walking by together as I sit in the shop that's recently become so quiet after a busy summer crowd dispersed. Family has always been important to me, my mom in particular since she was a single mom for most of my life and I grew up with her. Having both of my birth parents, my step-mom, my mom's partner, my aunt, uncle, and cousin all on island with us feels similar to the island I remember when I was a kid, when five generations of my family lived on the island and I saw my great, great grandmother weekly for bean suppers. There's something to be said for predictability, for knowing virtually all the faces you encounter in a day. There's something to be said for knowing someone's story as you stand behind them in the checkout line at the grocery store. There's something to be said for the ease with which I can strike up a conversation with just about anyone, anywhere.
There's something to be said for this place we have chosen to live. It may not offer some of the opportunities found elsewhere, but it more than makes up for it in those that it does.