Bounce through Seattle

We are headed back to NYC. Sitting in the airport, I've decided not to continue writing a summary of the highlights of the entire trip since it was starting to sound like a eulogy.

Our stay in Seattle was too short to truly relax and enjoy the incredible weather that welcomed us home. My home town was fat green and lush, thanks to a summer filled with rainy days that stopped in time for our stopover.

We were greeted by our parents and friends (who all are looking quite handsome/beautiful) and a chest full of items we've been sending back over the course of the year. They were all tiny time capsule bombs that exploded all over the floor and sucked us back to where we sent them from.

The bed in my mom's guestroom, which is my brother's old bedroom, was the most comfortable place we'd been in many many months. I had fantasized about hiding under the down comforter and never coming out. Especially when we were tossing and turning in the damp or bug filled or noisy bedrooms most of the world had to offer. Suddenly, I had the chance.

We woke up late, ate home-made granola, talked about the changes in the world, caught up with nearly everyone and drank our weight in beer and wine. The decompression valve was fully depressed.

We started to reinflate with stress as our flight to NY approached. Our baggage had multiplied somehow, had children and invited its neighbors to accompany us. Our comfortable load that we lived in for a year, and could in a pinch sprint down the train platform with, was suddenly a baggage claim busting six pieces. Each one privately threatened to give me a hernia when no one else was listening.

As relaxing as it was though, the specter of responsibility, returning to normal loomed. Our flight back to New York was looming.