No Place Like Home

It feels harder and harder to look forward to "getting away from it all". Why in the world would I choose to get away from a place that fills me up and brings me joy? Holidays have become equivalent to the gift of simply being able to stay home. Is it any wonder I don't want to uproot myself and go anywhere?

I had hoped this holiday would be that of a "play it by ear" variety. No plans. Simply pick up and go, if and when the spirit moved me and the opportunity arose.

Then I accepted an invitation. No regrets. As always, I know I will be glad I have followed the path of least resistance. Even though saying "yes" was met with the pulling of some home-bound-heart-strings, I knew "yes" was the right answer.

By the time I post this, I will be home again. I can predict the future. I will be glad I went. I will be feeling the afterglow of some perfectly imperfect memories. At the moment, there is a little bit of angst in the unknown factor of our visit. By the time we return home, all anxieties will be put to rest.

I feel anxious as the entirety of my little family who is home, will be in a car headed in a westward direction to visit family.

As always, I wonder what if we don't make it back home again? Who will take care of our cats? What if the house alarm goes off? What if ... what if ... what if ...

Here I sit, in the moments before we leave home looking forward to the moment when we drive up our street upon our return home. Safe and sound, the house still standing and anxiously awaiting the moment when we see what our cats have been up to in our absence.

Be it ever so humble ... there is no place like home.