We got home Friday night, around 7:00. The first thing I did was rush into the house and inhale.
Ahhhh. It smells like us, like my family. A unique blend of sunshine, sweaty heads, Hope Suds laundry detergent and ripening peaches. The air was warm and heavy and familiar.
We had been gone so long – two weeks – that it felt a little like waking up from a dream. “Oh yes, that’s what my cookie jar looks like. Did we always have blinds on that window? I can’t believe there is really that much room between the kitchen table and the stairs.”
Even the kids felt it. "I got so used to Colorado, Mom, that I'm not used to being here anymore," said Connor over Chipotle.
But it didn’t take long for our souls to sink back in.
My acclimation was pushed by the appalling discovery that my bed had been unmade the entire time we were gone. I was beside myself. I make my bed every day, without fail. It’s part of my faux OCD nature. I couldn’t believe my bed had been sitting wrinkled and unkempt for 15 days.
So I promptly made my bed.
Then I pulled down the covers and sank into my own pillow.