I have seen and done a lot in New Orleans in the last week.
I don’t have any pictures I can show you of any of those things, because they are still in RAW format and my brain is simply too tired to make them not be.
My brain is too tired for anything but home.
I’ve been away from home for a week.
And here is what I’ve learned:
Home is not a place, but the people with whom you share it.
Obviously. But specifically, I’m not missing my bed or my big empty house. I’m not missing Florida or the beach or my own coffee maker. I’m missing Jared, Devin, and Emma. If they could somehow be here, crammed into this king-sized bed until it is no longer a luxury but a too-small space for four people, then I could be home enough.
But they’re not, and I’m not, and I have had quite enough of that, thank you very much.
Schedules are not necessarily a bad thing.
I’m a little nervous about how poorly I have handled balancing work and play on this trip; I thought this would be a good test of how I’d manage working while traveling full time. If it were a test, I’d have failed miserably.
Let’s all assume it was less of a test and more of a trial run. A learning experience, we’ll call it, like first born children. Since I have no more trips planned between now and when we’re set to shove off on June 1st, I will have to think long and hard about what I can do differently over the next year.
At the very top of that list will probably be to not drink anything that has been banned in most states. Baby steps.
I’ll get to making the rest of that list later.
For now, I’m just ready to be home.