He has to prod me to go. It's been this way all of our married life. I've attributed my reluctance to pack up and go anywhere, any time, to genetics. His parents emigrated from Scotland and England. They left all they knew to come to America. My parents moved from Somerville to Randolph and spent the next decade shuttling the mothers they left behind to and from our unfinished Cape for every birthday, holiday, and tiniest celebration. Packing up and leaving home is in my husband's genes. But it isn't in mine.

The 20-month-old lived here for a week in December. The last time he and his family visited was August. Then, Euan, my youngest grandchild, was a brand-new walker, his steps unsteady, and he fell down a lot. But he didn't let falling down get him down.