Where is Home?

Where is 'Home'? A good friend of mine said, "Home is anywhere Amy (his wife) is".  'Home'.  Is it where you slept last night, where you raised your kids, your first living space on your own, or where you grew up?  Some have described feeling 'at home' with their grandparents, in a place of worship, or camping under the stars.  Some make their place of work or their work-out routine 'Home'.  It has been said one can never go back home.  After more than twenty years away from the place I called 'Home' as a child, I returned for a visit recently, with stops along the way to re-visit other spots on the map that I've called 'Home'.

"Vacation", they call it, but it's a lot of work!  Certain tasks must be completed to leave 'Home' behind and the one departing has work to do to prepare to be away from 'Home'.  However, for this 12-day adventure, I had little more to do than show up at the airport with a change of clothes and my toothbrush.  My daughter, an expert manager, had done all the leg work in advance.  I've prepared myself and family for what some call vacation many times in past years but now my recommendation would be to wait until you have an adult child, willing, able, talented even, in completing the arduous planning and follow through phase of such, for you!  Jenn placed the calls, reviewed information on line, made reservations, sent deposits, all the while taking into consideration special needs my physical constraints might warrant.  No travel agent could have done it better or in such a personal way.  Thank you, Jenn.

It had been some time since I'd been flying--in an airplane, that is.  There were those indescribable flights of fancy I took a couple of years ago following knee replacement surgery.  My family likes to refer to that time as, "Oomah's Days of Demerol".  I'll tell you about those sometime.  One thing I noticed about Reno International Airport right away was its growth since I was last there.  Truly, I tried to pack light, while obeying the rules my family of frequent fliers had told me about.  But the what ifs got to me.  And Jessie's need, after filling her own suitcase, to add stuff to mine!

We had to drive the old Caddy to the airport.  No other mode of transportation available in the family could accommodate the luggage for we three--me, Jenn and Kabeski--plus the goodbye wavers--Tom, Gage and Max.  Do you remember what teens use to find fun to do, where you stop the car amid traffic, the driver gets out and everyone changes places in the car?  A similar scenario played out in my driveway at home, trying to fit luggage and people pieces of the space puzzle together for the drive to the airport.  The comedy continued there, trying to get through the winding lane markers from entry to baggage check-in with me in a wheel chair, my Strollater and our luggage to be checked, the biggest bag with a wheel missing, another with a pull handle that would not stay in place,  two hooked together that kept turning over plus carry-on bags and my cane!

Of course, I set off the security bells and whistles!  This was not some grand send off celebration in honor of my first visit 'Home' in more than 20 years.  No, just my bionic knee and pinned-together shoulder setting off the sensors.  Once I was screened and wanded and we picked up all our parts and pieces, we three finally made it to the boarding area and were first to get on the plane!  And would you believe that from the air between Reno and Las Vegas, it is just one big sand dune?  After lots of peanuts, Pepsi, pockets of turbulence, a plane change in Vegas, I arrived once again, in a place I called 'Home' for many years, Salt Lake City, Utah.  I made it my home at 17, just out of high school.   Hair Today-Gone Tomorrow

There's more to tell of my grand adventure in my search to find 'Home', and of relatives and friends and places, still so much a part of who I am.

To be continued ...