When Cordelia and I arrived at Aunty Janice’s last week she said, isn’t travelling wonderful, it’s just so much fun, seeing new things and going new places…
Yep, absolutely.
But there’s something to be said for coming home. For familiar roads. For knowing where the next curve is and how much time I have to safely pass the slow car ahead of me.
We took a different route coming back east from Calgary and although it was scenic, I was longing for a familiar highway. Also, less traffic.
Up here, if and when you catch up to a vehicle and need to pass it, you just go. There’s very rarely another car coming from the opposite direction that you need to wait for.
Never mind a dozen cars you need to wait for and six behind you, right on your bumper, waiting not so patiently for you to make your move. I’ve discovered it’s somewhat anxiety-provoking for me.
I did some major nesting yesterday. Unpacking, cleaning, laundry, grocery shopping and cooking. Just so happy to be in my own home again. My kitchen, my couch, my backyard, my bed, my bathtub and one little four year old boy in particular, that my heart ached for while I was away.
Travelling is great but there’s no place like home.




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