I keep this little drawing on my desktop. The kids are growing up so fast that I like to hold onto the memory of the inventive spelling of their kindergarten days. I also like the sentiment.

It mirrors how I feel today. Really happy to be home. Might have something to do with the head cold that travelled with me from Iceland, but at base point, I’m a homebody. I like my nest.

Travel certainly has points in its favor. It provides experiences and memories that linger long after the bags are unpacked. The places that we have been fortunate enough to visit have been wonderful. It’s the actual travel part that is often tedious and exhausting.

Okay, I’m showing my age. There was once a young me who flew into the Munich airport alone on my way to Austria to meet friends for a week of skiing. I walked up to a counter and asked if I could leave my skis and boots in their back room for the night. I also asked for a recommendation for a local bed and breakfast. Hard for me to imagine flying into a foreign city without a reservation at this point in my life. But it all worked out then, and most probably would again. People are invariably kind and accommodating.

But for now, it’s good to be home.