First Three Weeks

The first three weeks have passed. I have stopped crying. I am sitting on the sofa in the sun porch having coffee in the morning. There is a really old apple tree out in the yard. I have my 60th birthday coming up this week and I wonder if the tree is that old. Maybe older, I think. It is going to be shaded by an enormous maple, so I don't even know if it will bloom, much less bear fruit. But there is this one branch that hangs off to the left, a large gentle arc, perhaps a place for a swing for my youngest grand-daughter, and it is beautiful.
My daughter and son-in-law and grand-daughter have come to visit for a few days. Before they arrive, I have feverishly tried to make things look as good as possible. I've painted over the dings on the walls made by the moving company. I have cleaned and dusted and polished the floors. There are clean sheets on the bed and I have a turkey in the oven and the place smells pretty good.
But my daughter is tired from travel, too much work, and an impending move herself. So now she is crying and saying, "Oh Mom, it's so little and old!" She means the house. At least she doesn't mean me. Not yet anyway. My son-in-law seems to like the place, though, and he goes on the trampoline with his daughter and pushes her on the trolley swing we have hung between two large trees. And my grand-daughter seems to love the place. Two out of three.
One other thing:  There are still no leaves on the trees so every morning when I get up, the sun hits the two small lakes, one to the east of us, and the other to the south, turning them silver. Two swans have appeared from nowhere and they are gliding across the larger of the two lakes. I take this as a magical sign.