A long weekend at home. Friday, 1:47 PM. She cuts the engine. The house is silent. A candle, the bathtub, forty-five minutes of nothing. 7:30 PM. Four friends, two bottles, the granite island that pulls everyone in. The fireplace crackles all the way to coffee. Saturday morning. Eight seven-year-olds storm down to the basement. The parents reclaim their coffee -- and their conversation. Sunday, Game 7. Caufield scores in overtime. The home theatre erupts. Go Habs Go. Monday. Pyjamas over pyjamas. A movie with the kids at the "Slipper Cinema." Nothing to plan, nothing to anticipate. The house does the rest. Welcome home.