I don’t know how many times I have typed that. “Home Again, Home Again”. “There and Back Again”. “Homeward Bound”, but it always feels right. It always feels lighter when I get to the point that I’m typing those words. Why is that? Why is it that after a month at home, where I am so in the right frame of mind with my routine and direction and am grounded in the knowledge that I’m on the right track that my mind always wanders to thinking about what the next adventure should be. Why am I always thinking about the future? When I’m home, its thinking about tomorrow, or vacation, or the next holiday. In spring I am thinking of summer. In Summer I am thinking of fall. In fall, I am dreading the winter. Why?
Right now I am sitting on an airplane about ready to take off to Omaha nebraska. The sun has already gone down here, but there are not yet stars in the sky. It’s that space after dusk and before night that is void of any identity of it’s own. The distant noise of safety instructions, explaining for the 100th time, how to buckle a seatbelt. It’s muted by the rest of the noise, te click of this Bluetooth keyboard that I am just now getting used to, and a child whining a few seats in front of me, and the growing engine noise ans the plane pulls away from the gate.
I’m so ready to be home. I have already had such a long travel day, every hour that ticks by makes me more exhausted and ready to fall into the comfort of my own bed. Jim is picking me up from the airport and I promised Z she could come to my house tonight so we could talk through her issues this week. Though it will already be like 10pm when I finally reach hone and I’ll be even more exhausted, it was the best thing I could offer. She took me up on it however, just before I boarded I think she realized how late it would actually be and texted she was staying put for the night. That’s good I guess.
This morning I sat in the airport in Mexico alone for like two and a half hours reading a book and becoming more and more paranoid by the minute about not being in the United States. There I was, all alone in a foreign country with a passport and a growing urge to be back in the US, like something bad was going to happen. It probably didn’t help that the book I was reading was a bit of a creepy thriller.
In any case, When I stepped off the plane in Chicago, a wave of relief got me. It happened again when I finally arrived at my departure gate and found a seat. And now that this plane just landed in Omaha, that original weight is almost gone. In another few minutes I’ll be in a car in the way home. /deep sigh.