I'm Coming Home

I don't travel much for work.  Maybe three times a year.  And while it's sometimes nice to have the quiet and the experiences and the change.  More than anything, it's nice to come back home.

The seven-minute phone conversations are never enough.  The call in the middle of the night to learn that one kid is going to the emergency room means you sit up all night with anxiety and guilt.

The kids' voices sound both old and young at the same time.  And Brian's voice sounds alternately tired and engaged.

And so today I headed back to the airport at 4:30 a.m. (yes, that is Central Time) to get back.

To get back.


To this.

And, most of all, this.

Home.  To the routine.

The mess.

The chaos.

The bickering.


But also the routine.  In a good way.

And the mess, in a good way.

And even the bickering...in an ever-so-slightly "we're alive" way.


Back to our life.  Back to our same old life. 


And that is good.