Sunday, March 23, 2008

PST

Well. We're home.

And it's good, no: wonderful to be home. To blink at the familiar with renewed eyes.

We've tossed aside suitcases, to be unpacked in approximately nine days, when we finally become sick of digging through a tangled mess of clothes and souvenirs.

We've thanked the grandparents and delivered a brief, slightly brain-dead summary of what we saw, experienced and ate.

Trey has, of course, begun downloading nearly seven hundred pictures of same.

Most importantly, we've tiptoed into dark and quiet rooms to gaze, smiling and shiny-eyed, at our slumbering muppers.

We've tempted fate by kissing their cheeks and damp foreheads, breathing in their sweet smells, and murmuring in their ears, "We're home. Mommy and Daddy are home."

We're home. And it's all good. No: wonderful.

But could I be forgiven for confessing that, given the option, I probably wouldn't refuse just one more night beneath the California stars?

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