I didn’t go to sleep until well into the first morning back, the combination of 11 hours of planes, taxis, cars and long walkways interacting badly with my exhaustion and all the caffeine I consumed. So it was well after 3 a.m. by the time my racing fatigue gave way to unconsciousness, and after waking at 7, 8, 9 and then 10, after 10 when I finally got out of bed.
I stepped outside while the bath filled and found the home air light, cool to the touch and just a little windy, all of which I missed in the heavy, humid air in New York and then Vermont (although Vermont did fold into low temperatures on occasion). The yard is overgrown, the dishes not done, and all kinds of new things found at yard sales and such are piled on the porch. I return to find the heat wave dissolved, but so many plants still browned and dry. The green brain-like balls of Osage Orange hang from the tree over the cars, reminding me that last year one of them broke a windshield. The cat sleeps stretched out on the bed, the dog on the floor.
The first morning back it’s impossible to reconcile the places so far away, so close in my mind. The tunnel between was long and arduous, and consisted of a plane ride to Laguardia where three screaming babies in the seat behind me, and two more in the seat behind them, interfaced with some of the worst turbulence I’ve ever experienced (bonding me with my seatmate and we grabbed onto one another for dear life).
Now the rows of babies in the air are behind me, and I’m back to this new beginning in Kansas, six weeks or so behind the Vermont weather (where there were some red maple leaves on the ground already) and yet right on time for here. I’m hoping to rest and be enough to catch up with where I’ve landed.