First Trip Back

It’s a time of transition. I’m recovering quickly from the stress of the last two months. I can feel it, and it feels right, and good. But that doesn’t prepare me for walking into our house on Westland at 1am on Wednesday, already exhausted by 36 hours of redeye from Portland, Indiana drive time, inspecting our new engineered floor-making equipment (very thrilling, more later,) more drive time and a late night flight from O’hare, and about breaking right down on the floor into a puddle. The phrase “By god, what have I done” filled me up like a balloon, leaving little room to breathe. I love that house, that home that Maxine and I spent so much creative energy to turn from a full blown mess into something so special that it sold in 2 days, (twice, but that’s a different story.) I love that it was where jake river got started and where cats apricot and purrbear were buried, the latter just a week before we left, like she knew, and decided she wasn’t going on our trip, thanks anyway.

I love that our neighbors are killer, and will be so hard to replace. And I love sitting next to the pond that Maxine dug and watch the now 5 year old feeder gold fish that have grown so large.

But I was just exhausted, and the folks moving in are super, and the week was so very full…

Flying back to Portland on the early Saturday flight doesn’t particularly make me feel like I’m heading home, or not home, but it sure makes me thrilled to get with the nuclear again. Jake needs his bicycle seat raised and Maxine has discovered a new dessert she needs to try out on me. I guess I could say that’s as good a definition of home as I need: where I can fiddle with my boy’s bike and eat my lady’s cooking.