A Return to Colorado

This was written as my plane landed on June 25th...it simply has taken me this long to sit down and transpose the notes from my phone to the computer. Sad, isn't it? I have all the time in the world as my family is in Maine yet I could not find time until now.

I am watching the farmer's giant circular crops slip past my window. And I see the highway which carried us so far far East away from home.

Our home.

I am confused on so many levels as to where home truly is. When I am here in Colorado, home is always in the state where I was born. Our house in Mercer. My parents. Home.

But when I visit Maine, home is that very distant and mountainous state which I have adopted. We have adopted. I convinced Hope to move to Colorado. I somehow tricked her into marrying me (she got the short end of that stick). And we continue to live here even though our parents, now our children's grandparents, are so very far away.

This return to Colorado leaves me far from my family. My children looked so forlorn as I pulled away from home this morning. And now I return to an empty house with scattered reminders of my children and my wife who are oh so far away.

But I return to work. To our family dog, Gibson. He keeps an eye on me, keeps me company, keeps me in the familiar routines that dogs are able to maintain for their owners. And Gibson? He always knows exactly where home is. Home is anywhere as long as you are with those who love you the most.