Dec 18, 2012

Because quiet time is precious

There is a little boy curling into my side, breathing soft and slow.  I wonder if he's dreaming of Spiderman.  Spiderman's his latest hero, you know.  How I've missed this...

I'm home...and it's good.  So good.

It's also a shock.

Since yesterday evening, Mum and I have been fielding calls and texts from people who all seem to have the same question: "Is she home?"  I know, I if they would be asking anything else, right?  Look - I expected this kind of influx, but didn't expect that it would be feel quite this overwhelming.  So for now, I'm doing my best to lay low.

And so far, that's been a challenge.  It's as if I walked off the plane and straight into a giant to-do list...and I'm all for getting things done, but I need some time to be still.  It sure was a lot easier to find that in Galway.  Life there was slow, laid-back, less pressured...

Please don't read that, though, and think that my term abroad was a vacation.  None of it ever felt like a vacation.  For one thing, I had just as much schoolwork as I would have had at Union.  For another, I lost a dear one almost two months ago and dealing with that has been far from easy.  So to those of you who have already been using the word "vacation": understand that I wouldn't trade my time abroad for anything.  But a vacation is a break - a departure from "real life", in a way - and let me tell you: the past four months have been as real as it gets.

There's more to write, friends, but the jetlag will wear off faster if I try to sleep now.  Until tomorrow, then...

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