Being home is a lot like being in the middle of a maelstrom. Things that have been hibernating for the past four or five months suddenly resurface, like figures rising out of mystical waters, and now I deal with them in the same way that one deals with things: just take them as they come. In fairness to the universe, they're all mainly pleasant things that I would enjoy taking my time on and basically just smoothing things over and taking a slightly hedonistic pleasure in dealing with. It would be nice to savor each moment - and I try to, as much as I can, within the constraints of linear time - because I know that each opportunity missed, each second forgotten, is something that can't be recovered.
And in between the rush from one errand to the next, of having to parcel out time for the important people in my life like little gifts wrapped in invisible gossamer and ribbons, there's a moment where you realize that there's such a thing as free fall, things like small kindnesses and joy in certain experiences that reminds me that this is what makes this time so precious and so important. And while I am tempted to allow a semblance of cynicism to color the experiences, I try and hold back, and be happy within the small expanse of time and space that allows such small coincidences to happen.
And when this is all over, what will always be remembered is tenderness, a cloudy afternoon with the promise of rain and sunshine, of careful miracles.