I just like to be home. We have been gone for over a week visiting different family and friends and I feel safe back in our house. I know what to expect here. It is comfortable and familiar and quiet.
When I venture out, I find that I am overwhelmed by groups. I am startled by regular life. I am quickly overtaken when I hear a boy call out for “daddy” at the gas station or a little girl asking her dad for ice cream in line at a fast food restaurant.
During our time away, I was reminded of how much I loved to travel with Shawn. Road trips aren’t the same without him. He made the hours pass enjoyably with fun rhyming songs that he invented for the kids, stories of make-believe that he would rattle off as if they were true and discussions we would formulate from a variety of topics inspired from the route of our journey.
Each mile now seems like we are driving further away from his presence in our lives. I wish we could drive closer. I wish we could go pick him up and get on with our lives. Seven months is long enough to have life on hold. Jordan repeatedly asks when we get in the car, “Go to heaven, Mommy?" And then demands, "Go get Daddy!” If that were an option, I would have cancelled all other plans and we would have gone to pick up Daddy yesterday or better yet, last month.
I am glad to be home. A Spring getaway didn’t really provide the escape it seemed to promise. It was more of a spring board into other hidden crevices of loss. Winter wasn’t long enough. I need more time to hibernate. I can only take the “real world” in certain doses. Voyages are meant to revive. But, my heart has been sailing on treacherous waters and sometimes home makes a much better retreat.