Touchdown Boston

I'm here.
I'm home.
I can hardly believe it, its just so surreal.
It took 12 days of sailing, 2 days of roaming the streets of Tenerife, a 4 hour flight diverted to an airport hours north of where we were supposed to land, a 3 hour coach through England which shuts down with a mere 2 inches of snow, a night and day soaking up the beauty of London, a straight-out sprint to my gate at Heathrow (42 terminals is a long way to run when you show up 25 minutes before an international flight, oops), a 7 hours flight over the Atlantic, and a 10 minute drive home, where I sit now.

There are pictures of me throughout the house, my moms 'shrine' of me in Africa (as my sister jokingly calls it) takes up one side of our refrigerator. It just dawned on me that I was missed here just as badly as I missed home. While I was halfway across the world, the most loving family imaginable set up reminders and documented my journey in Africa. Little Luc and Anicette smile at me from the refrigerator, I see Maurice looking back at me, they are all here too. They are fixtures in not only my heart, but in my family's who love them just as much as I do.

So here I am.
Wide awake because for me its 6am, but the clock says 1.
The feeling inside of me can't be described in words (besides, if I tried I would go on for lines which we know I have a habit of doing).
Tonight I will sleep in a bed wider than my hips after a long hot shower. A bed that is covered in warm sheets and fluffy pillows because no one can make a bed like Jenny, my best friend and only sister. Tomorrow I will drink coffee in my pj's and write words of thanks in my precious prayer journal, because I am truly so thankful. I am so blessed.

I am home, and it feels good.