After planning and saving for almost a year, a near-perfect vacation is on the history books. I could not have asked for better weather: sunny and warm, every day, for sixteen days. And in nearly a dozen different states, from here to Wisconsin and back.
In fact, there was some rain and it book-ended the trip. A predawn rain on the first day out led to a beautiful sunrise. And again yesterday, just before dusk, a little more rain made an incredible sunset on the Mojave desert.
I packed for the weather that was supposed to be, and wore the same clothes over and over again, because it was too warm for most of what I took. But then, vacations are that way: I always pack too much. I always pack jewelry to wear with my outfits, and end up wearing the same pair of earrings for the entire trip.
I guess life is like that: planning for one thing and finding something else. Of course, it leaves me with lots of questions. Like, why does the grass grow so quickly when I'm not home? Or, why do I get so much mail when I'm gone? And the age old question: why does it take me longer to unpack than it did to travel around the country?
Oh well. I had a wonderful time and brought home a lifetime of memories. As I sit here now, I am aware of the sounds around me. The washer and dryer are humming away. A few minutes ago, bacon, eggs and french toast were sizzling away on top of the stove. Now, the football game is droning on in the background as I write this.
Very late last night, when I got home, I was greeted by my girls. Cinnamon sang as she tried to tell me how glad she is that I am home. Her aria was punctuated by Ginger's lilting mezzo soprano comments. They are not particularly harmonious, but they are loud. I brought their doggy bed back into the laundry room, gave them each a cookie and soon, I was listening to their contented snores.
Life is full of sounds that we don't even realize that we hear, until we don't hear them anymore. I am keenly aware of the noises I missed during my vacation. The creaking of the wood floors, the slam of the screen door, the sounds of food cooking, at home, which means I don't have to go out to eat again.
When I woke up this morning, birds were chirping outside. The big black crows were on the aluminum patio roof, trying to crack walnuts again. It could be a disconcerting sound, if you didn't know what it was. I do, and I missed it while I was gone.
And now, as I am almost through listening to the staccato clicks of the keys on my laptop, I will be ready to enjoy more of the special sounds that greeted my homecoming: the sounds of being home.
Tea anyone? The kettle is whistling.....
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