The Way Home - Part One

Here I sit - in a hotel room in Fargo, North Dakota.  It's 12:43 am, but I'm still on west coast time.  Old habits die hard, I guess.  It will take me a few days, but I'll catch up to the new time.  I always do.

We officially left our home of two years on June 30th.  We've been living out of suitcases, spending copious amounts of time driving in our van and sleeping in strange beds since then.  That might not sound very exciting.  Don't let that fool you.  We've also been exploring great cities,  checking out unbelievable scenery, wandering the aisles in my happy place (Target), and eating delicious and gluttonous meals that I didn't cook.

I'll tell you more about the journey from June 30th to today in some upcoming posts.  But tonight it feels that I must write.  Everything is about to change.

Tomorrow we cross the threshold into Manitoba.  The sky will be blue and the horizon will go on forever.  There will be wheat fields, canola fields, grain elevators and farm yards.   The wind will be blowing and the air will be hot, thick, and humid.  That's the way summer is on the prairie.  There is no place like it.

Our house is waiting for us.
People are waiting too.
And there are eyes and voices that I can't wait to sit across a table from and hear the stories I've missed for the past two years.  

It will be glorious
and exciting
and crazy
and nerve-wracking
and scary
and hard
and wonderful
and familiar
and different
all     m i x e d   together.

(I've never done this before.)
Last time I checked, that didn't matter.
Tomorrow is coming regardless.

Let the crazy mix begin.