Journey Home

Six forty five in the morning.  Pete was cheerful and on time, as usual.  He put my bags in the car and whisked me to the bus station downtown.  Pete and I were both musicians and athletes in former lives, so we always had a lot to talk about.  He was my favorite taxi driver in Bristol (actually, it was a tie between him and Rachel, but I'd already said thank you and good-bye to her), and I was happy to have a chance to chat with him one last time.  Pete schlepped my bags into the station for me, gave me a big hug and drove off into the sunrise.

The bus ride, wait in the airport and successive flight all went thankfully smoothly.  I was headed home, a place that had always been my sanctuary.  And yet, my return was somewhat bittersweet.  The Airbus carrying me homeward was also taking me farther away from the place where I not only found happiness and contentment, but also put me out of my element just enough to make me want to experience more.

Steven was waiting at arrivals in SFO, and drove me home in my broken-down 1985 Honda CRX he's been using (left).  We drove up to an overgrown garden full of weeds (below), and I cursed the gardeners who deserted me last winter without notice.  As we walked up to the house, I heard a thundering noise and high-pitched whine inside.  I braced myself, opened the door, and held onto the stair rails for dear life when two gigantic paws thumped my chest, a large black head butted mine and a big, red tongue slashed across my face.

  "Sit, Piglet!"  

Piglet sat for half a second, ran in circles, whining the whole time, then started jumping again.  She can be a little excitable sometimes.  All the animals, except my Mini cat, who ran away while I was gone, all seemed happy to see me.  Mini always waited for me in her corner perch in my office every night, and now she's gone.  I'm devastated.

I picked up the neighborhood newsletter.  The last large undeveloped plot of land in town is being developed!  Arrggghhh!  Yes, the Bay Area has housing issues due to a growing population (which irks me because population growth is the problem, not lack of housing), but town councils everywhere are rubber-stamping poorly planned developments because all they see are dollar signs.  In the meantime, they are not planning for things like efficient transportation for the masses of people who will be living here or the education of their children.  I'm disheartened.  Before I left home, I'd put an effort into speaking out about development issues through several neighborhood groups, and I feel like those efforts were useless.  I think a lot of the residents here feel that way now.

Steve barbecued that night.  As we ate, he kept asking if I was okay.  Even after I insisted I was just tired from the long day of travel, he looked worried.  In the coming week, three other people kept asking the same question.  It was too difficult to tell them how my life at home is missing something, so I pleaded jet lag and made an effort to seem happier.

I created ltljpnzgrl on 360 as a way to work through uncertainties I faced in hitting my midlife crisis, many of which were insecurities carried over from my youth (I migrated to Multiply because of the interesting people I met).  Those insecurities led to many bad decisions as a young woman, and almost as many regrets.

It seems I'm still in flux and still working through issues, although I had moments this summer that allowed me to forget them.  I discovered that when I was out of my comfort zone in a completely new environment, I felt alive again, and eager to face what lay ahead, rather than dwell on mistakes of the past.  In coming home, I regressed somewhat.  I want that good feeling back.  I think it is time for me to make major changes in my life.  I just need a plan...