Coming home is part of the travel tour. I don’t think we often include home as “a place to visit” when we plan a trip. But, if home is where the heart is, then home should be a place we want to go.
I think home can sometimes feel as foreign as an adventure to India. The chaos of schedules is like the chaotic traffic of rickshaws, motorcycles and cars all honking for the same space on a narrow Indian roadway. Balancing family, work, school, extra-curricular activities and some attempt at a social life can feel similar to the trick of fitting the Indian population of one billion people into a geographic location not much larger than the state of Texas. Keeping a house in order, clean, picked-up and toilets scrubbed is at times as interesting as the smogs and smells of a developing nation. Relating to the big people and little people inside the house can be as fascinating and frustrating as learning a second language.
Home can also be as comforting as a chocolate croissant in Paris, France. Sleeping in one’s own bed, the conveniences of one’s own kitchen, the luxury of a washer and dryer can be as charming as the Eiffel Tower. Sometimes all that matters is the light in which one views the attractions.
Then I thought about my travel companion. Steven was with me on my Indian adventure, my Paris, France escapade and my coming home destination. And I’m captivated. Taken with. Deeply overwhelmed by how much I love this guy. Travel is best when shared. Whether at home or far away, I know where my heart is.