“No one realizes how beautiful it is to travel until he comes home again and rests his head on his old, familiar pillow.” — Len Yutang
When it’s time to go home, I can’t wait to get there. Just imagining seeing our grandkids and kids makes me smile. Hanging out with my friends? Talking to my sisters and my mother? There’s a lot of stored-up conversations ready to go.
Besides all the people I love, I’ve missed:
- An all-American McDonalds large Diet Coke with plenty of ice. European Coca Cola Light tastes off, rarely comes with ice, and is a mere 12 ounces at best. Market Meadows drive-thru, here I come!
- Matt, Natalie, and Al, who start my morning every day with some news and some mindless patter. The BBC morning news is a snooze and — imagine that! — all about Britain. Just ask us about the Scotland vote. We’ve become experts.
- HGTV, or any TV for that matter. How I long to loll on the couch and hear those familiar words: “We have to have granite countertops and windows that let in a lot of natural light.”
- The Jewel and Casey’s. I know where everything is and can confidently stock the fridge with ordinary stuff.
- A toilet seat. Nine days ago, a workman came into our unit to fix a tiny leak from the hot water heater that we’d reported. He noticed that the lid of our toilet seat was leaning on the wall, broken before we’d arrived. So, he took our complete toilet seat, and said he’d be back tomorrow. He never returned and we’ve been “on the edge” ever since.
- A shower door that closes. And, a shower bigger than a phone booth.
- Driving around in my car. Yeah, the Metro is cool, but so is an instant escape down the driveway.
- The old familiar everything. My kitchen. The neighborhood. Fox Valley Mall. The Riverwalk. I won’t feel compelled to soak in very architectural or historic detail. I can just BE.
- A Portillo’s chopped salad. Quesadillas at Front Street. A homemade grilled burger in a pretzel roll. A grilled chicken breast smeared with barbecue sauce.
You get the idea.