This morning I awoke to a feeling I have not experienced since my flight attendant years, ages ago. I must have opened one eye, saw a light, and then shut my eye again.
Where was I?
Back when I was flying to Europe every week, I taught myself not to move in my bed in the morning until I had discerned exactly where I was: London? Lisbon? Athens? I guess I should preface this by explaining just how disconcerting it is to awaken, get up, go to the toilet and not know where one is. So I taught myself early-on not to move out of the bed till I was sure of my surroundings and the language I should be listening for.
This morning, I saw a light, and I could not make out where I was or what the light was. After a night in Frankfort, Va, four nights in Richmond, Va, a night in Charleston, WV, and a night in Paducah, KY, I hadn't a crack of dawn clue. I took it for the bathroom light, but indeed it was the morning sunrise at the opposite side of the hotel room, , and that meant I should be up and at 'em. So up I arose and at 'em I went: 9 hours of driving home.
Home again, home again, jiggety-jig.
After the morning sunrise, the majority of my day and drive was spent in either dense fog, heavy rain, or a mix. Welcome home, yessirree.
But when I actually got home, what was there to greet me?
A Christmas tree, up in its stand, and ready for decorating.
And THAT, is a homecoming.