I’m flying south for work this week, so I don’t have much time for writing or contemplating life. But I don’t want to totally leave you guys hanging (how would you even know it was Friday?!) and deprive you of my wit and soul-searching questions.
So here’s a short version of what I’m thinking about right now:
In recent years I’ve traveled a lot for work, and when people ask if I enjoy it, I say, “Yes. I enjoy traveling, and I enjoy coming home.”
And it’s still true. I like leaving, seeing new places, catching up with friends, trying different foods, and experiencing different cultures, groups, and ideas. I like finding a new coffee shop in a new city and being out of my ordinary life.
And I like coming home. I like flying over that familiar skyline, driving back to the roads I know, walking back into my home to resume life as usual, with my coffee shops and my friends and my ordinary routine.
My favorite part of coming home is being in complete control of my coffee consumption. I’m not kidding. When you travel, you never know if you’ll end up in some weird vortex where they only serve chai, or you’re without a car in a strange city and you can’t walk anywhere without crossing a major highway. When I’m home, I can make coffee anytime I want. And that’s comforting. I can simply walk into my kitchen, pour in some water and coffee grounds, and moments later I hear the comforting hiss of liquid joy. It feels like I am in control of something, even though it’s small. And when so much of life is out of my control, even that small thing feels comforting and friendly.
What about you? Whether you’re coming back from the grocery store or a month-long tramp around Thailand, what is your favorite part of coming home?
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