Rebecca

I thought the trip home would help me find my center.

You know that line about needing a vacation from your vacations? How you get home from a nice trip and need a couple days to regroup?

Here I am. Not yet home for twenty-four hours and uncertain I’ll make it through the day. I tried to plan for this. While away, I did emotional and mental exercises wherein I made myself promise that I would not get home, leave the suitcase open but unpacked on the living room floor and subsist almost entirely on complaints.

Instead, I would sort through mail cheerfully and see that all bills were paid. I would go quickly to the grocery store so that we don’t have to spend the next three days configuring pickle juice and curry paste into meals. I would shower and get dressed and wear shoes.

I would not—I actually practiced this—think about how nice it felt to walk around on carpet or how it’s never humid in Colorado. I would not spend an hour on Travelocity planning the next vacation. Not look at the couch covered in the contents of my carry-on, decide against putting them away, and curl up on top of them.

Oh yes—and the blog post I was going to write…oh that beautiful, inspired, poignant, hysterical blog post.

That post had a picture.

Advertisements