It is strange to be back in the town where we used to own a house, but don’t anymore – and it’s weird to be sleeping at my mom’s when I used to live in a neighborhood ten minutes away.  It can be disconcerting to recognize handfuls of people at a time where ever in public I happen to be.  Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice, it just seems out of place for a second or two.  There is no appeal in the shopping centers and fast food restaurants lining the main drag (which might be equivalent to a small town high street in the UK), and there is certainly a strangeness about driving a rental car through this place.  There is a difference in feeling like a place is familiar and feeling like it is home; I only really feel at home with the people we have come to see.

Though I would like to avoid the thought of it, I have to prepare for how overwhelming it might be to get on the plane the next time.  When we left in October we were exhausted from the sheer amount of loose ends to be tied up until the minute we stepped foot in the airport.  And we knew we’d be home in less than three months.  Though I did shed a few tears, my mind was too full to process the enormity of the situation and I was too ignorant to know what (roller coaster) to expect for the next few weeks.  We were hopeful and excited to call the big city home. 

After three weeks of being loved and in close proximity to the people who make up our family network, I expect to feel a way I couldn’t have expected.  We watched National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation last night with my sister and brother-in-law.  It’s not my favorite movie, but I certainly had a lot more fun watching it when we started to think of the characters on screen as our own family members.  For a few brief moments I almost wished that my family was nearly as troublesome as Clark Griswold’s because I rationalized that it just might make it easier to leave.

I look forward to the rest of our trip, but I wish for the moments to pass very slowly.

Happy Birthday, Mrs. 007.