Only for two nights.
We've been gone almost for the entire month of February, we've driven through the wilds of Northern Ontario, survived the cold in Winnipeg, only to be caught in a snow storm on the last few miles of the trip. We ground to a very slow crawl for miles and miles, following two plows for a while, then following in the tracks of a lorry being carefully driven. We saw the estimated time of arrival slowly get later and later and later. With about a hundred kilometers to go we discovered we had to stop and pick something up - it was out of our way by only a few blocks and a few minutes but it seemed like sheer drudgery doing it.
Our book on tape ended just as we pulled into the driveway. It was just marvelous coming into our home. Seeing familiar surroundings, seeing our idiosyncratic tastes displayed everywhere. After the sterile loveliness of hotels and motels - all perfectly clean and tastefully appointed, it's nice to be in our own little bit of mess. Living in rooms designed for all gets wearying - I know I'm moaning here but I've a point to make.
Checking email I found one telling me that one of the big institutions in Moose Jaw is closing. I've been there. It's big. I thought of all those men and women coming home. I've been away for a month and I missed this place. My own little space in my own little community, I missed it like mad. For many who will be coming home, it will feel like they are leaving home. For many the routines of regular living will seem chaotic. For many, there will be the challenge of adapting to the idea of 'home'.
For each person, called 'patient's' by the newspaper article, I hope they have the patience to readjust to the idea of liberty, and freedom, and choice. I hope that they will learn to love a stuff covered ottoman as much as I do. I hope they will feel as embraced by the reality of 'home' as much as the idea of 'home'. I hope they will experience, like I did moments ago, a sense that their destination was and always will be forever 'home'.