I got home to Greencastle, Indiana, last night, after a week of being home in Boulder, Colorado. I'm home from being home.
I don't remember ever feeling this way before in my life, as if I had two homes, both equally MY home, both dear familiar worlds with a house that is my house and a bed that is my bed and even with a stuffed animal that is my stuffed animal. (Though only Boulder has a cat that is my cat.)
This morning I had breakfast at the Blue Door Cafe, where Shelley and I squealed with happiness to see each other after our week of separation. I dallied over my beloved French toast and hot chocolate, and then walked my usual morning constitutional up and down Seminary Street, before heading out to my office at the Prindle Institute to exchange fall break stories with Linda and Nicki. Now I'm puttering at my computer here, getting geared up for my busy happy week back home, after my busy happy week away, or rather, my busy happy week back (at my other) home.
Two beloved homes, equally home, a thousand miles apart.
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It's perhaps a sad sign of how out of date I've gotten on your life that I didn't know you had taken up residence in Greencastle. When we drive across the country between our two "homes" in Boulder and Massachusetts, we make a point of stopping in Greencastle. It started when the girls were about 8, and we got off the interstate one evening, longing for an old-fashioned motel. When David and I came out from inquiring in the office, we found them standing stockstill in the yard, staring at the odd lights twinkling in the hedge. It was the first time they'd ever encountered fireflies. And then we had such an interesting breakfast at the Monon Restaurant.
ReplyDeleteJulie