So its been a week since I reunited with my wanderers. After a layover to see my gorgeous, sweet niece (and her parents:) in LA, I took the red-eye to Hartford. BTW my flights from Bangkok to LA and LA to Hartford were amazing. I slept 9 hours and 4 hours respectively. Wonderful!
In Hartford my dad predictably got choked up but recovered quickly — after all the worst is over for the grandparents. Forty minutes later, I walked though the door, dropped my bag, hugged my mom and was back out the door bound for JFK.
Traffic was light and I was about 3 hours early. I found a playground near the airport, ate Subway and mused on my initial impressions of America. In a nutshell: everything seemed the same one year later. Not a bad thing but strange as I feel very different… or just odd being back where I started — after only a year when I expected to be gone much longer. Sitting there in the bright Jule sunshine, on a bench near a baseball field, I began to confront the reality that that particular dream is over.
But lucky me I had the part of my dream that I get to keep to retrieve at the airport.
After an hour delay and a great phone conversation with one of my best friends, I was itching to hold those little kids. I was hanging over the rail, watching the door like a hawk. Panicking that my husband was really a Russian spy as my ex-boss jokingly predicted years ago and that he kidnapped the kids. What can I say I was exhausted. But then the doors swung open and 23! days after I’d last seen them, they were running into my arms yelling “Mama”. Nothing better. Dream shmeam I got my kids back.
WanderBoy konked out the moment we got on the highway, despite the girl bawling for 45 minutes. Then she too succumbed and WPapa and I whispered our happiness at being back together. WBoy didn’t awake until the next morning around 4; WGirl played with the one they call Grammy (no memory) and then slept. We woke before 4 for a couple of days but now seem back on track.
More later on impressions and plans…
