the journey home...

As I gripped the armrest during the turbulence and storm on the flight to St. Louis, I found myself getting a little emotional. I hadn't seen my family for at least a month, 3 for my mother. And although California was calling my name as that surf and sand covered land tends to do, I still couldn't wait to get off the plane and see the people I tried so hard to get away from as a teenager. The guy in the seat next to me kept looking over at me out of the corner of his eyes - probably thought I was crazy, I'm sure I kept mumbling something incoherent.
The first plane to Phoenix wasn't this bad. I had a seat mate who not only talked to me but held an intellectually stimulating conversation with me - go figure. I was pleasantly surprised to find I'm not the only one who likes to talk to strangers. At least I was distracted from what was going on in my mind...
So, I got off the plane in one piece, bought myself a hot coffee, since of course it was raining, and sat down to read my book. An hour later, I got on the plane, and three hours later I was right back to where I began this rant.

By the time I got off the plane and saw the siblings, the emotional moment had passed. I was happy and excited and gave my daddy a kiss on the cheek, tickled my brother a little, and held my sisters hand as we walked out of the airport.

It's good to be home.