In less than a week the boys and I are headed back "home". I am braving the friendly skies alone with the munchkins. The husband is staying behind to earn a living and will join us in Albuquerque for Christmas. Am I excited, well yes... but perhaps a better adjective would be PETRIFIED. Teeth chattering, bone shaking, nausea inducing fear. Two frantic children, above the clouds, trapped in tight corridors with no escape. Trekking through airports toting two car seats, Christmas gifts and gear to last us two weeks away from home base. Nap schedule be damned. Routine-out the window. Destination: Melt-Down City. All aboard....
But it will be good right? Right? Someone say right. Right Now.
I'll be back in the neighborhood a few days. I'll see the friends I miss. I'll drive past The House. The 3000 square foot house that I came home to after the birth of both of my sons. The House on our beloved street. Perhaps I'll run into old neighbors. The neighbors who always said hello to us. The neighbors who invited us for wine and birthday parties. They will all ask... so how is Berkeley? How do you like it out there?
Well truth be told, I like it fine. Just fine. Good weather. Sight-seeing every weekend. It's good.
But going back, it will be bittersweet. It will remind me of what I left behind. I am afraid that my life today will pale in comparison to the comfort of my Denver home, family and friends.
So okay.... there is the traveling alone with a four year old and an 18 month old who refuses to be carried, and there is the possible pain of leaving loved ones once again, but can I let that stop me? No, we are Denver-bound, for better or for worse. I'll brave the flight. I'll brave the cold. I'll brave the possible "I miss you tears". I have to go. It's still home.