Comforts of Home

As I have written, more than any other trip, I could not wait to get
home. I longed for my lovely four walls of comfort, my routines of
salsa and yoga and hiking, to sit at my desk and write or lounge in
my couch and read.

Moreover, there is nothing like a pick-up at the airport to make you
feel like you are really home . . . though I transitioned through
customs at record speed -- chatting with the customs officer who,
seeing my listing salsa shoes on my form, inquired about my salsa
dancing. Argentineans are not so chatty.

So, I sat in the exhausted filled airport air, basking in the morning
LA light and loving it. I hoped in the car and could not felt more
at home or happier. Off we went into the LA morning traffic, taking
round about ways to find the least congested freeways, not that I
minded, after my long and cooped up flight, driving in the
convertible and chatting with a good friend. After the long journey
home, I realized how blessed I was as I hopped in the shower while my
driver went to the kitchen to concoct one of my favorite breakfasts:
huevos de Colombia y tostados y café! As we ate our breakfast and
continued to share our adventures of the past two weeks, I realized
that sometimes, only distance can enlighten the beauty of the simple
gifts our lives offer us each day.

I am sure I will travel again, though right now, I feel content to
explore my own backyard. Perhaps my next vacation, during which I
think I should not longer avoid bringing my mother's remains to New
Jersey, I will drive across this lovely country I have seen so little
of, visit my dear friends, and just be where I am rather than trying
to escape to something new, trying to prove something to myself or
others about my worldliness, my independence. And in the end, I
truly do think that this is what has made this vacation a bit sour
(and my homecoming so very, very delicious), the craving for
connection rather than escape. Often we travel to break the ties
that bind us at home, let off the yoke of the burdens and obligations
of work, family, friends. However, I already am in a place where I
feel bound to nothing or no one and crave connection, roots,
obligations, burdens. Sometimes, obligations, when chosen and given
freely, are liberating and uplifting. Like my friend picking me up
at the airport and making me breakfast. I am thankful, but nothing
was expected, he was just glad to help. I also need to learn to let
others do that for me.

Even as my home is sealed against the smoky air and tragedy and fires
surround my city, as loss threatens so many, as we all are reminded
of the fragility of everything, I sit here happy to know I am where I
should be at this time, that there are blessings waiting for me, and
the hope of dreams come true.