Thursday, January 8, 2015

of the return home

Knowing the end of the tour was near, the weather decided to make it easier for us to depart.  The gloomy skies, the drizzling rain, the wet walk to the metro.  They were all leading to a departure that might have been much harder in the sunshine.

check out December weather in Paris

The walk to the metro was wet and mostly silent.  Once again, I realize how much we walk when we are on vacation in Europe.  Our bodies grow stronger and straighter.  Our jaws relax and our eyes and ears perk up.  Leaving the different life will be hard on me.  Much less so for Charles my husband.  He is eager for American television and normal hours.

from the internet

Prior to our departure, we made an assessment of the room.  I longingly gazed at the Marriott the kind of hotel we save forever to be able to pay for stay and enjoy it.  It wasn't quite the same as staying with my daughter, who appreciates a good meal and a lovely dessert, but it was much appreciated that the concierge level had lovely wines to choose from and three English beers and lots of cheese to snack on.  They even had an equestrian magazine about Palm Beach to read.  Good bye 6 star life.

The good news about flying back is you fly all night and it is night when you get here, so you can go right to bed.  The weather was sodden in Tallahassee as well and we arrived back to a gray rainy weekend with miserable animals and more rain than measured in a few years.  The yard had turned a leafy compilation of moisture and sand washed from the hills above us.  The chicken coop cage floor was completely replaced with leaves and muck.  The pools of water around the house almost qualified as reflection ponds they are so long.

Wet, sodden, leaf laden, home is still home.  The bed felt fabulous, not because it is so much better than the 6 star hotel, but because it is mine.  All mine.  And there is something fabulous about going to your own spot.

Recently, a friend of mine lost his spot.

I don't know for sure, but I think he was living day to day.  Food might have been a luxury.  Then, he lost his car, his room, his bed, his spot.  It is very disconcerting.  Mostly, because the people who stay in that position long, tend not to recover.  They end up on the squares in Boston, Atlanta, Paris, San Francisco.  They end up near bus stations and highway exits.

So for me, coming home to appreciate my spot, allowed me a different perspective  with which to help him with a temporary spot.  And of course help climbing out of his position: a job, a car to borrow, a hotel to stay in for interviews in Orlando.

It is absolutely fabulous that we have the ability to travel to places of far away.  But, it is also important to cherish my earnings and help others who need a hand. No strings.  No judgement.

I hope soon that he has his own spot.  For I want him to feel like there is a special place all his too, at least his while he is getting back on his feet.

I am grateful for the gifts I have, for the ones given to me along the way, and grateful to have enough to share.

Happy New Year everyone.