Anyone who has seen the documentary film that was made of the Woodstock event will probably remember the wild grimaces and facial contortions of Alvin Lee, the lead singer of the band 10 Years After as he wailed about "goin' home..."
I suppose there are as many ideas of what home is and what home means as there are people to think about it, and emotions to run the gamut as well.
Home is where you hang your hat.
Home is where the heart is.
Yesterday, a woman in the window seat said to the man in the middle seat...
Home is where the husband is.
Last Tuesday I went home.... home to the house where I spent about half my life before I got married, home to my mother and father. Home to where my heart is. Yesterday I came home. Home to the house where I have lived since 1981, home to my husband and family. Home to where my heart is.
I smiled a little and cried a little both coming and going. Smiling at wonderful memories, crying a bit because my mom may die soon, and this visit may have been the last time I see her alive on this earth. It is a bit hard to write about it.
Today I am pleased to be sitting in front of my window, happy to have made the connections for three different flights starting with Santa Ana-John Wayne Airport in Orange County at 5:30 am... to Denver.... to Dallas/Ft Worth... and ending in Springfield at 7 p.m. last night. Not everybody who traveled yesterday was so fortunate. Whew...
I will shortly launch myself into untangling the snarl on my laptop. I was not able to give my various bosses any advance notice that I needed to take time off so I did have to take my work with me - which actually worked out OK. Now I will see if I can persuade all those files to come and live on this computer.
And as soon as Richard comes back from his dental appointment and we receive the new refrigerator we bought earlier in the month - just doing our part to stimulate the economy a bit, doncha know - and transfer everything into it, he will download the photos I took, and life goes on....