Homecoming

After three days on the road, I drove into San Antonio at 2:00 today--so happy to be out of the car and inside my messy house.  I had to turn on the AC to cool the house because it was so hot and muggy on this January afternoon.  The now-leafless pecan tree has shed its attire all over the yard.   The car is only half-emptied, the three-weeks of mail opened, mostly bills and coupons inviting me to buy new bras and stuff.  Home feels good, even in its messiness.

It's hard to have good telephone conversations on the road, what with road noise--so my traveling companions were mostly podcasts and other words--This American Life, Serial, Ram Dass, John O'Donahue, On the Media, On Being, and Liz Gilbert's Magic Lessons.

Maybe it's because I'm road weary, but my hunch is that I will be flying and borrowing or renting a car next time I travel east.  It's always more expansive driving the first leg of a journey than the last one.

I took the lower route home so that Betty and I could have a farewell lunch--so good but too short.  I spent two nights in motels and stopped only briefly in two places I always like to visit on the Southern Route, an art supply store in Covington, Louisiana, and a quilt shop (Block Therapy) in Gautier.  I know both these routes so well that it's like driving around in a stretched-out and familiar neighborhood.

On the road, I feel hopeful about all the creative endeavors I'll do when I get home--I'll write a book AND do some quilting AND take a class in portrait photography.  But of course, as Liz Gilbert says in Magic Lessons, the first step in creative endeavors involves alphabetizing the spice drawer.

Allspice. Basil. Cinnamon....