We’re home, safe and sound.
Although I loved being away, and visiting with family and relaxing at BDH’s parents’ house, there’s just something nice about being home. We’re always sad to come to the end of our holidays, but then we’re always happy to get home, too. It’s kind of strange. We love to go to Nova Scotia and we enjoy it so much when we’re there, we’re always looking for opportunities to go visit and talk about one day eventually moving back. And then we come home and come through the door and realize how much we missed home while we were away.
It may not be the cleanest or the best decorated or the most elegant house on the planet, but it’s ours. It’s comforting and homey and “lived-in”, that’s for sure. Our girls are here, and we miss them whenever we’re away, despite having great cat sitters checking up on them. And it’s nice to be missed, too. It’s nice to know the girls miss us, and they follow us around like little shadows for hours after we return, just happy to see us. And our stuff is here. We miss our routines and the things we do just as habit. We miss our home.
Last night, we got in, and gave the girls love and pets and snuggles, and we watched a nice movie and unwound from our journey. We let Lucy and Cinnamon sleep with us, a rare treat. And today, I got up and went to the vet to bring Opus home. She trotted around the place, meowing and purring, as happy to be here as I was to finally have her home for good. And with a clean, cancer-free bill of health (for the time being, anyway). I’ve cuddled and enjoyed the cats more than I have in a long time. And I’ve also enjoyed getting back into my routine today. I’ve put on laundry, and picked up a couple of things at the store, and put supper in the crock pot. I’ve enjoyed being home.
I’m sure, in a few weeks, when things get stressful and we’re tired and cranky, we’ll lament not being on vacation, and we’ll dream of getting away again. But for the time being, today at least, we’re home. And it’s nice.