On Wednesday we were in the gift shop wondering how someone could buy an apron with the logo from 'The International Slavery Museum' on it when the phone rang. We answered and though the reception was crackling we heard the unmistakeable voice from a friend back home. Even though it was impossible to talk with such poor reception it was nice to have been remembered. Sometimes when away for a long period such as this we wonder if we grow irrelevant in the lives of others.
That's why checking emails to find a note from Jessika from YSBMS about my upcoming January talk in Barrie (hometown dave) or from Ann at Vita is always nice to see. Knowing that I'm still knit into my life there, that there are people and things waiting for us back home. The hardest thing about working on the road isn't the work it's the sense of disconnectedness that can become unsettling.
I'm probably feeling all this because there is only one more lecture to do and one more sleep to have before getting on the plane to come home. And right now that feels like a huge hurdle to overcome - but we will.
There are several stories mulling about in my brain - people I met, things I saw, conversations I had - but I don't want to write those this morning.
I just want to say, I'm coming home. After having to adapt to rooms and places that were made for generic cripples, I'm going home to where my world is adapted just for me, just for my needs - perhaps that's selfish, perhaps not - perhaps it's simply homesickness.
So, bring on the day, let's get it done, cause I want to celebrate 'doneness' and come home.