There’s No Place Like Home


I was on the 5:45 last night.  Yes, sitting on a silver jet plane flying from Phoenix to St. Louis.  Beheld below was the setting golden sun among a massive crystal clear sky.  An orange fireball, surely sent by God Himself was there to say, “Good-by” to me.  Twinkling lights, a million or more reminded me of Christmas past, or maybe one in the future to come.  The sky was a lovely dusty blue with waves of muted grey clouds swimming slightly above shaped like shark fins.  I gazed at the beauty through my diminutive “port-hole” window site.

Closing my weary eyes to remember what I was leaving behind, I thought of my temporary desert home: of my “other” family, my mother’s house and the gift of my father.  Reaching for a Kleenex a single tear drop fell.  “Good-by,” is hard, you know.  Still, I looked forward to getting home where my grown children were surly cozy and warm.  I’d see my boys again, my “Gracie-Girl,” my “Doodle” dog, and the new snow on the ground.  How different it will be for me.  Am I prepared for it?  Only time will tell.

This morning I sit in my cracked and torn leather swivel chair.   I’m writing at my old familiar keyboard, the one with some of the painted letters worn and missing.   I must say, it feels a bit strange to me.   My fingers aren’t quite here.  They need to pick up the pace.  The rhythm is missing.  My hands feel clumsy and not “quite right.”

On the top of my half-moon desk I see nothing but a great big mess!  The mail is piled sky-high with un-opened glittering Christmas cards.  They arrived after I’d gone.  Over-due bills sit in a rattan corner basket with “junk-mail” not far behind.  I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed with all there is to do.  My suitcases are un-packed; laundry will be next, piled to the painted ceiling, and there’s cleaning to do.  I can’t even think of it all.  Then, there’s my work; writing deadlines make me shudder to think of them!

I’ve got to “catch-up.”  Before I forget, I will tell you the temperature when I departed the plane was a shock to me.  18 degrees the thermometer read.   Yes, I’ve left the warm desert far, far behind for the freezing Midwest.

Still, there’s no place like home……..

Dorothy's Ruby Red Slippers from 'The Wizard of Oz

4 thoughts on “There’s No Place Like Home

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