Sistah in the ruby slippers really knew what she was talking about - there's no place like home. While I really didn't want our vacation to end, it is a relief to be home. To just be.
The trek home was a little hairy. Our flight was delayed and we were confined to the airplane far longer than anyone should be with a two-year-old, and Lilah was not the same well-behaved child she had been on all the other flights we had taken. She was a crazy maniac for most of the flight, prompting me, on more than one occasion, to look over at the Hubs and say, "Whose kid is this?" I nearly lost my marbles.
But walking in the door to our condo on Saturday night I felt my load lighten. Phew, we made it!
Sunday was spent outside with our incredible neighbour-friends; a perfect reminder of what we are so lucky to come home to. And even now, as I look around the apartment at bags half unpacked, exploding with clothes, and toys strewn around the living room after getting re-acquainted with Lilah, I feel the peace that accompanies a good homecoming. I am sure it won't last long, as the to-do lists get longer, the unfolded laundry piles up and the idiosyncracies of our small, cramped space start to get on my nerves again.
Today we woke up to buckets of rain, typical of Vancouver in the fall, winter and spring. Usually in mid-August, this would have me feeling all "woe is me", but today I took it as an invitation to spend time at home, unpacking and falling back into familiar patterns.
Home has its own distinct scent, and its own special feel. And tonight I am drinking it in. Yes, it's good to be home.