Home.

I consider myself immeasurably fortunate to be able to travel with my family for weeks on end. My husband's work is such that he is able to take large spans of time away. And my work is such that I can put things on hold and tag along. And my son's temperament is such that we can drag him pretty much anywhere and he'll roll with it. But after this last bout of planes, trains and automobiles, I'm ready to land. I'm ready to unpack and sit down and be pregnant and cook in my own kitchen and rake leaves and monitor the heater and try to work the god-damned DVD player and snuggle in my own bed and read to my son in a rocking chair and feed the crazy ducks that live across the street in that wet-land the city parks and rec call a pond. I'm home and so very happy to be so.