Today was a travel day. Those are tough. For me, I always feel a little on the nauseous side and greasy. Can’t explain it– it’s just true.
We took the subway, then a train, then an air train, then two planes, a shuttle bus, and finally a car– but we made it. Brian watches out for me when we travel– he lifts my bags up into the overhead storage, makes me walk in front of him in crowds, and I see him eyeing sketchy or suspicious persons. He makes me feel protected and loved, even though he’s short and blunt with his replies. He’s a man on a mission, and I accept that.
While waiting at Chicago O’Hare, I realized what today is. Today marks four whole months of wedded-ness. Feels like longer, we both decided with smiles. We made it a third of a year. It’s a nice chunk.
On travel days, we sit in silence a lot. We’ll have books or iPhones in our hands to occupy ourselves. I’ll lay my head on the shoulder of my voracious reader and snooze while he devours a novel or some blogs. It’s nice. Comfortable.
We both had the same moment today, independently. We both had a– gosh, this is my forever person– moment. It’s still weird, sometimes, to look at this man and try to wrap a brain around “the rest of my life.” I chuckled when I found out Brian had that moment, too. The newness hasn’t worn off, I guess.
We ended the day with a late dinner of Chuy’s To Go, eaten on the coffee table, followed by rolling back on the couch, holding our midsections, and groaning happily– our personal treat for surviving the day-o-travel. NYC was wonderful, but Dorothy said it best when she tapped those ruby slippers together…
There’s no place like home.