And Then... I Came Home
Somewhere over Texas at dusk. Home is....Home is...Home is here? Where I am? Confusing. I flew home on April 16th, the longest day of my life since it clocked in at a full 48 hours as I crossed the international dateline. I had the best kind of air travel: dull, routine, no strange hiccups or interactions or even distressed babies. I watched Conclave before restlessly sleeping, while the kid in front of me (on the way to an international cheerleading competition in Orlando, FL) watched Peter Rabbit 2. I didn't even know there was a Peter Rabbit 1 movie. The cassocks and robes of office on one screen, the blue velveteen coat and rabbit ears on the other. I didn't touch my book (to read or write) and I didn't do any knitting. Best intentions always lose. It is like when I make a to do list as I fall asleep, and in the morning I don't even know who that person was. The Houston customs terminal was stuffy but spacious ...