I sat outside the apartment door while Joe scooped up the two weeks of mail that had accumulated while we'd been away working in California. In the end, once all the junk was removed, all that was left was 3 bills and a reminder from my doctor that it's 'poop on a stick' time of year again. That little yearly celebration comes around faster than any of the others, rah!
But once in, we both collapsed. I hadn't sat in a chair, other than my wheelchair, for two weeks. I sprawled out on my chair, feet up on the ottoman and felt like I'd been transported directly to heaven. First we talked mostly about dinner - deciding on beans on toast. Second we discussed ways to dive back into this time zone because next week is a working week. There's little time to adjust.
We hadn't been able to talk much on the plane, the turbulence was really, really bad, worse than I've experienced in years, and the plane, as a result seemed much louder than usual. So we resorted to the occasional, 'If the plane goes down, remember that I have always loved you,' glances. We noticed, to our amusement that everyone was doing it, the guy on the other side of the aisle gave me the, 'I think we're going to die now and I want you to know that I think we'd have been great friends.' The moment we touched down safely everyone went right back into their commuter shells and jostled and pushed to get out. All that to say, we hadn't talked.
WheelTrans brought us home - but again, it was one of the older buses and it rattled quite a bit. Not that I minded a single rattle because it was taking us, ever nearer, to home. So after dinner, when we'd talked about getting back into this zone, we talked for a minute or two about the trip. Not the work. The trip.
We had had to cancel a big trip earlier in the year, on doctor's orders, and I had to begin treatment for my leg. It was all very difficult and it was, on reflection, a horrid time. My doctor assured me, and he never, ever, exaggerated, that I should be able to resume travel once my leg was looking better.
The word 'should' is different than the word 'will.'
Now just back, we have proof positive that we 'will' be able to do that again. We had a wonderfully busy lecture and consultation schedule, four days on three days off (one was a travel day) and then four days on. At the same time there were several things going on at work here back home that had me busy first thing in the morning and then again after work. The work days, then, were very, very long.
But it all got done.
Everything.
Except.
I found that with the lecturing and consulting along with keeping up with my work load from here and, of course, fitting in things like 'doing some fun stuff' ... I simple had no time to fit in writing this blog. I am really happy to be here at the keyboard, back doing something I really like doing. The chair last night, the beans on toast and this post are all signposts ...
WE ARE HOME!
And we are.
Chat tomorrow.
7 comments:
Welcome home.
There is nothing like going through your own door to your own space.
Looking forward to hearing about some of it.
Alicia
Welcome home. What sweeter words?
Welcome back! I missed you and your words here. At the same time, it's always worth the wait.
Sounds like the trip was a victory and success on many fronts! Welcome Back.
Nice to know you are back home safe and well and even better to know you are on form and ready to think about touring again. I say no more but keep our fingers crossed for a visit here when you can.
There's no place like home! Glad you made it back in one piece.
When I was a kid and my mom would get home from a trip, she'd come through the front door and, without stopping, go straight to her bedroom, where she'd drop her bags on the floor and utter a grateful, "Hello, bed!"
I didn't quite get it at the time, but once I was old enough to have travelled on my own a bit, it really clicked.
Hope you enjoyed getting to put your feet up in your own space and getting to sleep in your own bed!
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