I’m trying to remember that the journey home is part of the adventure. I’m so looking forward to the familiar faces and sights of southwest Virginia and feeling a bit sad at leaving our northwest temporary home. It helps that someone has been playing the saxophone for the last 12 hours outside our hotel window. Losing those 3 hours we kept in a savings account from our trip over will be pretty painful. Not too excited about a two hour layover in Philly.
But what do I take with me, aside from the bulging suitcase of coffee, t-shirts, chocolate pasta and decorative mugs? Obviously I have four invaluable days of bonding with my 13 year-old daughter and a realization that we are pretty good travel companions. I take an appreciation for the subtle although perceptible differences in southeast and northwest urban culture. Like muscle memory, I get smell memory from patchouli and curry, to ganja and rain and an increased consciousness of what I consider trash. I take a desire to return when possible. From most of the people I talked to while here, I get the idea that they think Seattle is a nice place to visit and a dreary place to live. Not they they don’t love it, they just miss the sunshine. Finally, likeDorothy, I get the beautiful perspective that there is no place like home.