I’m home. And it feels good. Slept in my own bed. Walked out onto the porch this morning and looked at the pasture. Looked at the sky. Now for the rest of the day. I washed everything before I left my daughter’s home, so all I need to do is put things away, attach decals to guitar cases, and remember the good times.

I’m drinking coffee from the big mug I bought after my Pentagon tour, and I just realized it’s Navy blue, which is fitting because I served in the Navy as did my mother and my father. I’ve also got a passel of brochures and booklets from the battlefields and parks I visited. They’ll need to be filed in my parks folder where they will promptly be forgotten. I suppose I should try to do something a little more formal, and that seems like a good 2025 project.

I was gone nearly sixteen days, which is enough time to feel uprooted in a good way, to get the old soil shaken off the roots, and come back fresh for the new year. It’s enough time to discover what you missed and what you can do without. For instance, I don’t think I need one third of the clothes I have hanging in my closet. And it’s why I like travel, to see new things, and gain the perspective of distance.