The thing about going home is that it’s just so normal and ordinary that we don’t think to take photos on our way there. Perhaps a plane shot over the left wing with Mount Baker in the distance glowing white against the blue summer sky, or the welcome home dinner we enjoyed in our son’s garden, or the skytrain or Car2Go transportation necessities. Nope, none of it.
But we are home and happy to be here. The garden is a jungle of leggy tomato plants and petunias. Bees and butterflies, not to mention hummingbirds, have taken over the backyard and everything is very dry. Watering restrictions begin tomorrow and the sky is brown with smoke haze from local forest fires. Ash falls like the rain we need so desperately. There is a collective angst in the air and everyone’s talking about fear of fire.
We’re jet-lagged and recovering. Gord has already gone back to work — 56 hours in 7 days by the time he has a day off. It will delay his recovery but we’re thankful for the work and the people who encourage him in his area of expertise.
I have papers to write and a baby quilt to construct, not to mention the little book I’m creating for Brie who is coming to visit this weekend. Oh, and a little dress to sew for Eilidh. And I mustn’t forget something special for Ian!
How good it is to be home.
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