How old-married-woman is this: I like coming home from traveling almost as much as leaving. I do. We flew home Saturday, pleased to find that a flight from Amsterdam was not leaving a wake of jetlag. Instead, it was too warm for coats, and we pushed open our garden gate to a space of rainbows of blossoms. Bonnie Scotland.
It felt good to shoo out the stagnancy of an empty home and just be. In the past two weeks, we checked into hotels 7 different times. Being in one place, our place, felt luxurious in its simplicity. Walker, always one to break things down, taught me there is a difference between travel (where you learn) and vacation (where you relax). This had bits of both. Expansion and rest.
Junior high may have won me dorky awards, but one thing I learned (and then dropped) was how to scrapbook (Creative Memories memories, anyone?). Cardinal Rule of Scrapbooking: start out with recent photos and work backwards; freshest memories are easier to reproduce. So, for now, let me break down Saturday, at home, because that relief of stepping into our quiet and cool sanctuary is an instant to be savoured. Being back in Scotland on Saturday, I was reminded that He loves to give us good gifts. I felt like I was holding a big heavy box, my arms weighed down to the point of almost dropping it with astonishment. A good gift to be home. Driving past mountains bright with yellow rape (the source of rapeseed oil), I clung to the anticipation of all that Scotland had inside this time. The paper of this beautiful gift of Scotland had only barely ripped open for me to see inside: bright green squares of field, seagulls tucked into the sea-cliffs’ wedges. Bonnie Scotland, Walker said as we flew in. The ocean air was crisp and fresh with no March swarminess, and breathing it in and in and in made me never want to give it back. I love living in Scotland, and everywhere in Europe I go, part of me longs to be back home here.
This coming back after being away is tagged along by the refreshing sense of seeing anew. There are new shops in town, leaves have been cleaned from our wynd and garden, the beach had thousands of visitors with kites and dogs, and our garden had up and partied on us. Caughtcha in the red dress. Traveling is good; it sharpens my vision on the world, shows me what I miss in everyday life. I love soaking in all the sounds and places. But coming home is good, too. This cycle of change and then return, like the seasons, is comforting. Today, I feel enervated for my routines which have been refreshed by a break. The lawn has stripes from the mowers (one of my favorite things), the flowers seen here are even more a-bloom, and I’m thankful to be back blogging.