When you’re safe at home you wish you were having an adventure;
when you’re having an adventure you wish you were safe at home. - Thornton Wilder
I was home an entire week before hitting the road again. No trips to New York, New England, out West or places in between. I went food shopping and cooked several real home-cooked meals. I caught up on the laundry and worked outside weeding and preparing the garden. I bought new bird seed, replenished the feeder and welcomed the birds to our yard. There were a couple of Zumba classes squeezed into the week and Saturday night dinner out with friends.
Then it was time for another trip out of town.
I am writing this from a motel room in my old home town. We did not tell anyone about this trip. Hub has a medical procedure tomorrow and did not want to schedule anything, assuming he would not feel well. If he is recovered by tomorrow afternoon we will see my mother-in-law before heading back home.
Once again my home sits silent, lonely, awaiting the smells of home-cooked food and voices – mine, my hub's, the TV, neighbors and friends stopping by. I don’t miss the cleaning that goes along with the living, but I do miss the living.
I never thought I would be one of ‘those’ people who were very happy staying home. I always enjoyed going away – anywhere. I still like going away, but I am also beginning to enjoy coming home and hanging out at home – at least for a while. Long enough to do some laundry, read the piled up newspapers, take a walk around the neighborhood, scope out the goings-on and watch the flowers grow.