Back Home Again
My husband and I took a short vacation this last week to visit his parents. It’s always a joy to visit because we see them so rarely (usually just a couple of times per year). Whenever we visit, we get to start tackling what I call the “honeydew” list:
- “Honey, do you know what’s wrong with this webcam?”
- “Honey, do you know what we can do about this refrigerator door that doesn’t close properly?”
- “Honey, do you think we can get the printer to work from our wireless connection?”
Most of the tasks are fairly easy to fix — fifteen minutes here, maybe an hour there to clean up files, fix broken links, and reinstall printer drivers. It’s typically very fulfilling to complete these tasks because they are so appreciative of our help, and we get a substantial sense of accomplishment, of the “paying it forward” kind. We get to catch up on the medical issues that have occurred since last visit; we get the chance to share funny stories with some of their friends, and we always enjoy both the complex’s salt water pool and Pasta Night at the golf clubhouse (do be sure to bring your appetite!).
But getting back home is a great joy, too. We can reassemble our “family” and return to what’s normal for us. Our separation-anxiety-laden dog won’t let us out of his sight for the next few days. Our cat gives us a look that says “what did I do to make you decide to leave me at home?”
The getting back home part of this vacation was more troubling than usual. We caught a 4:15 am shuttle bus to arrive at the airport by 4:30 am, which we knew would be suitable time to get through all the bells and whistles (including customs) for a 6:30 am flight. But the “oops” started early: the 6:30 am flight to LaGuardia was cancelled. A trip to the Delta ticket counter for rescheduling presented some very frustrating results: the first flight we could obtain would be 5:35 pm to Atlanta, followed by a three-hour layover, with the second flight to Nashville at 11:00 pm, putting us in Nashville after midnight. Our 22-hours-awake day consisted of
- playing games on the Ipad (Solitaire, chess, jigsaw puzzles, and I downloaded a new bowling game),
- lots of people watching and secret speculation (“What profession do you think she has?” “I think she’s a pole dancing instructor”), and
- trying to figure out what we might get from the airport restaurants that would be tasty and affordable. (In case you haven’t recently priced airport restaurant food: a four-bite grilled chicken sandwich with cheese and lettuce sells for $11.95: yikes!).
It just brings to mind this reality: home is very personal. In fact, it’s so personal that sometimes you can’t even explain what it is that’s so comforting about home. It’s love. It’s the sense of belonging. It’s the fact that you know exactly where to find the coffee filters (maybe you can’t find them at somebody else’s home). It’s the comfort of your own bed and your own pillow and your own shampoo and the shower spray that you like so much.
As realtors, we understand this very personal connection, and we will do our best to help you locate the home that speaks to you. Yes, it’s great to vacation somewhere. But there is nothing more wonderful than coming home. Even if you don’t get home until well after midnight.