|Back from Europe, I am back to my old habits: drinking coffee in a cafe |
and blogging, while keeping an eye on my bike.
I was happy to arrive home last Saturday, at 1 a.m. After a marathon layover in Newark, and talking my husband's ear off, I must have fallen asleep around 2:30. All too soon I felt the presence of someone beside me. At first I thought I was still in France. The pine boards on our sleeping porch resemble narrow French streets. I was pedaling with my two girlfriends, but then a banner said "Happy 50th Mom". Egads, isn't that sign in my house? I groggily came around. Then I squinted (can't see without my glasses) and recognized my youngest boy standing beside our bed. I smiled and pulled him under the covers with me for a while.
It's good to be home.
I have gobs of photos and a journal full of memories. Switzerland. France. High speed trains. Plane flights. Good cheese, wine, and baguettes... every night! There is so much to tell. No regrets.