And so, for the first time in over four months, the post will originate from the left side of the Atlantic.
I headed home early.
What a trip it was. What a time.
I've only faced it a few times, but when I'm asked, I revert to the tried-and-true: "It was fantastic."
"Spectacular."
"Incredible."
It's strange, I wasn't expecting to be unable to describe my 2012 like this.
I've gone through "re-entry", I've done this before. Besides, it'll be easier for me to recount my trip because I was partially leading it.
Wrong.
It's more difficult for me to describe all this than 2009 was.
Meh. You see, that's not a big deal. Why? Because I'm home.
Entering the US again was like exhaling the largest sigh that your lungs are capable of holding. It was as though weight was being sloughed off my shoulders with every step. It's not that I disliked what I had done, or felt burdened by it at all. It was just time to come home.
Man is only capable of living out of a backpack for so long.
Beautifully, and ironically, the Wanderlust eventually turns on its head. It still says "GO!", but it just adds another word:
Go home.
Yes. Please.
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