journey not destination...

This year has seen a lot of destinations. Exotic ones. Historical ones. Gong show ones.

But there's one destination that I haven't yearned seriously about until now...

Home.

In six weeks I will be home. Do I remember the last time I thought this? No. Not really. In fact there was once a time when I thought, just how much more could be different when I come home? That time I came back to new home/new dad/new life but that all turned out pretty darn good, didn't it? So here's what I hope, this time when I go home I hope that nothing has changed. I hope that my parents love me as much as they did when I left. I hope the Vernon summer is as spectacular as I remember it. I hope that having tea out on the veranda watching the pheasant skulk around with binoculars peering at Stevo's from across the lake, waiting for a perfect day for pull the purse, swimming past the shore-line murk with the dogs in tow, Canada Day, my friends, my family, my dogs.

As sad as I am to leave this place, the destination remains the same.

Volver. Go home.

A Modern Day Marshal Plan…

I was going to launch into a great creative comparison about how sometimes enough time and investment of resources can make even the most dire of enemies come to terms with one another but instead I’ll just say that I had a nice time. It has been good to see you and I think I will leave it at that. It has reinforced some things that I was uncertain about and reconfirmed the things about which I was sure.

And a big thank you to those other people who have been patient with me, even when they think I’m absolutely mad to venture down that road again. I promise this time it’s just a corner store stop and not a transatlantic voyage.