Home

Our day of travel home was an absolute blur.  We were awake from 7:30am, until 3:30am the next morning.  All I recall of it was keeping tabs on the closest washrooms for Little M, making a run for the washrooms at the back of the plane upon take off with Little M in arms, and hobbling incredibly long distances on a throbbing leg.

The bright, modern airport of Houston was a jolt of modernization and accessibility of so much 'stuff' and food.  But it wasn't comforting.  It was overwhelming and over-processed - from one extreme to another.  I just wanted our plot of land - home. 

We arrived through our front door this morning at 2:30am.  Before I landed my first step, my lungs deeply filled with the familiar smell of our house -  clay plaster, timber beams, and a tomato seedling grow-op...   My body begins to decompress.  Our 80lb dog climbed up on the huge beanbag sac Little M and Hubby collapsed on, with the biggest smile I've ever seen on her face.

We slept until around 11am the next day.  No groceries in the house (thank goodness for my sister coming by to clean our refrigerator while we were gone!) , so we went for brunch and then shopped for all our familiar foods.  Ahhhh... produce!  I missed fresh produce so much, but it was funny to see the tiny papaya's stacked up and so incredibly expensive.  They were bigger than footballs in Nicaragua and so common.

We examined our garden on the way out to brunch.  Only one variety of spinach survived in my greens (lettuce, spinach) rainbow.  Peas are fantastic, carrots are kicking butt alongside daikon radish.  Kale, eaten to the stem again, even under the row cover.  I'm hunting down whatever is doing this and getting revenge.  Jerks.  The garden looks great!  My tomatoes indoors are so tall, I have to take them one by one to the greenhouse while holding their stems.  Very tall and lanky due to reaching for the sunlit window.  Not ideal, but I'm so very proud and thankful they survived.   LOVE OUR GARDEN!  LOVE.  IT.

Little M took out my stitches after dinner (I cut, she pulled, hubby held the light).  hmmm... most of the skin closed to itself, and some... not so much.  We named my new scar "Frankie" (Frankenstein).  Hubby's face says it all and then he adds, "after a couple days you better start on the Vitamin E".  uh, yeah.  I can feel the lump under the skin where the facia stitches are still, or where the wound is still healing.  part of the shin is numb, must have cut nerves.

There is such a lovely feeling of "Ahhhhh" - a shoulder relaxing, deep breath release of being where you call "home".  It is a place where you carve out your place in the world that is most connected with your own style, energy, preferences, knowledge.  Being away is adventurous and it offers so very much to learn of the world we live in and the world inside of us.  But there is that state of being on alert, learning new things about your environment, striving to understand the language, traffic, customs etc., that takes a level of energy too.  It is a great thing about travel that it pushes ones' normal; to bring back new things to ones' own life.  But it is equally lovely to just be home - the one place in the world I rest my head with those I love in peace.  I know there are deer and coyotes that cross our fields.   I know whatever is in our home, is by our selection.  It is where I have the right to rest, to grow, to love and be loved.  It is the place we know we are safe, at peace, where we allow ourselves to be most vulnerable and most silly.  There is nothing like "Home" 

*follow up note: As it turns out "Frankie" grew an internal infection which is why it did not close completely.  That lead to another round of antibiotics and doctor's orders for no running, jumping, lifting of heavy things for 3- 4 weeks.  At the end of that time, all healed up well and Frankie is now just another scar on "The Great Skinless Wonder" (my nickname as a kid).