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It\u2019s difficult to explain what being home is like. There are so many other times that I\u2019ve used the phrase \u201cit\u2019s like coming home\u201d to describe something else that\u2026I don\u2019t know how to find the words to describe the actual act<\/i> of being home after a trauma.<\/p>\n
Because that\u2019s what this has been. A trauma. For all of us. For Amras, for me, for everyone involved in getting us home, for every one of our crew mates who are still floating about in luxurious confinement, going slowly mad. It\u2019s a trauma, no more, no less. Everyone reacts to trauma differently. Everyone gets slack.<\/p>\n
This hasn\u2019t been a normal homecoming. I can\u2019t hug my parents, I can\u2019t cuddle the cat. Conversations have to be held from across the yard or through a screen door with safe distance in between. Our family picks up our groceries for us and leaves them in the driveway so I can go out and pick them up when everyone is safely out of harms way. Everything from flower delivery to mail pick up is done with gloves (fresh pair, every time), and even our luggage got sanitized before we unpacked it. For two weeks, we can’t even step off the property…<\/p>\n
It\u2019s all so very different\u2026<\/p>\n
And yet\u2026<\/p>\n
And yet\u2026<\/p>\n
This has been one of the best, most brilliant, kindest homecomings that I have ever experienced in all my years of travel. When Amras and I arrived home from the airport, it was to the scent of fresh flowers and a fully stocked fridge. It was with more messages of support and homecoming and care than I have ever experienced before\u2026and that has been ongoing, in the few days we\u2019ve been here.<\/p>\n
And\u2026we are seeing how much we<\/i> have changed.<\/p>\n
Windows are open, screen doors are thrown wide. We\u2019ve eaten breakfast outside every morning, simply because we can<\/i>. The smell of fresh-brewed coffee makes me tear up. The simple sound of people conversing as they walk down the street is comforting. The few cars that pass our house are comforting. I no longer care so much what people think of me, or if people are staring at me. I am even enjoying the occasional chill<\/i> in the air (the weather onboard ship was sweltering and unchanging, \u201cperfect\u201d weather can grind on you more than you think). I\u2019m spending less time in front of the computer and more time on the patio.<\/p>\n
The first thing Amras and I did the first morning we were home was just stand outside and\u2026breathe. And try not to cry, and breathe some more.<\/p>\n
I forgot how much I\u2019d missed the birdsong\u2026<\/p>\n
Home hasn\u2019t changed. The way I look at it has. The way I appreciate it has. Not just the building, or the birds or the people, but all of it together.<\/p>\n
Home.<\/p>\n
The world is changing. Has changed. Will change. There are some really really<\/i> big decisions around the corner for me and my fellow gypsies. It\u2019s too soon to make those decisions, we are still too raw, too ragged and worn too thin. We need to heal and stabilized and allow ourselves the time for that process; then we can address the big questions. Not before.<\/p>\n
But for now? For now\u2026we are enjoying the time off the rollercoaster\u2026<\/p>\n
And taking the time\u2026to be so, so very grateful\u2026<\/p>\n
And to listen to the birds\u2026<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
It\u2019s difficult to explain what being home is like. There are so many other times that I\u2019ve used the phrase \u201cit\u2019s like coming home\u201d to describe something else that\u2026I don\u2019t know how to find the words to describe the actual … Continue reading