We are home again, done with our travels for now. We came home in the rain on Thursday. It was a good trip, with lots of visiting and lots of travel. Our only bad weather was west of the Rockies. Here in Portland, the 9-month long rainy season has begun, with temperatures in the 40s and 50s, the days filled with rain, showers, cloudbursts, mist, drizzle, dampness, and breaks of sunshine. And rainbows. (We saw one yesterday against the dark sky, the wind blowing leaves across our view of it. The sun shone on the leaves as they tossed, looking like sparkles around the rainbow. It is only a memory — it was gone by the time I got my camera.)
It has been hard to shift our gears from the rhythm of travel to the rhythm of being at home. I think when we go away we expect to come home to find things as they were — or, more likely, as we remember them. But it is like stepping out of one stream and into another. When we step back into the first stream, it is the same but not the same as it was.
We are starting our routine here again, renewing friendships and picking up our duties here at home. It is nice to be home, but I know it won’t be long before, once again, I want to be on the road.