I am home at last from my foray into the wider world, which was wonderful. I will most likely be taking a few blogs to talk about my impressions and feelings about the trip, but for today at least I want to focus on what it means to be home.
Home means many things, from the building we live in to a state of mind, and all those things came into play Sunday when I arrived at Kennedy Airport after my ten day trip. I had been away from my house, my husband, my familiar surroundings, and the comfortable place where I normally have my head. All my senses were challenged and I was stretched physically and emotionally, which I loved.
When I got off the plane and walked to the counter to present my passport to the official at the desk, I was proud and relieved to feel the comfort and honor of being here, on the soil where immigrants like my ancestors have been coming for hundreds of years now. Knowing I was back was confirmed in the most basic of ways when the customs agent looked sternly from my passport photo to me, questioned me about where I had been, and then looked up and smiled when he said, simply, "Welcome Home".
It was exactly what I needed to hear.