It's good to be back

« Parr-esque in its depiction of the ordinary, my Grandfather's affection for annual pictures of carving holiday poultry is odd and interesting. This one is from circa 1954. »

How far we all come. How far we all come away from ourselves. So far, so much between, you can never go home again. You can go home, it's good to go home, but you never really get all the way home again in your life...and once in a while, once in a long time, you remembered, and knew how far you were away, and it hit you hard enough, that little while it lasted, to break your heart. - A Death in the Family, James Agee

There are few things so jarring and so unnatural as squeezing yourself into a metal tube with several hundred other people you wouldn't otherwise share space with to travel 12 or so hours to a distant destination very unlike the place where you began. Returning to the US after being away for three years was almost as bizarre as being dropped onto another world after being abducted by aliens. I will admit that it was nice that everyone spoke English in spite of strangers making frequent comments on how funny my accent was or asking me where I was from.

I remain jet lagged, tired and dazed from the trip so it will be a few more days before returning to my old tired and lazy self. I have a renewed appreciation for my adopted home that only spending two weeks in the heartland of flyover country with it's miles of strip malls, massive SUVs and nearly ubiquitous "Support Our Troops" ribbons on their bumpers could provide. It was good to see my family, but I'm glad to be home again.