Sometimes the best part of going away is coming home ... That's how I feel today. I walked through my front door to a deadly silent household, and immediately tripped over Kidlet's hockey bag. Fritz heard the commotion and came running and gave me a proper homecoming. I was home!
I immediately burst into action -- unpacking, tidying up, throwing some squash and apples into the oven to bake so I can make soup, defrosting chicken, peeling potatoes, setting the table and checking my email. At the risk of gross generalization -- women really are multi-taskers. It feels natural and productive to have a bunch of irons in the fire.
The house smells of baking chicken and the residual baked apples ... candles are lit and I am sitting here writing my post, feet up, nursing a steaming mug of tea. Now I breathe deeply and I can feel relaxation creeping into my being. I am waiting for my little family to come home for dinner.
Peace prevails. Happiness reigns. I am home - and there is nowhere else I'd rather be.