I can tell it’s the end of a journey because on the three flights, some 30 hours of travel, I have not said “boo” to a single seat mate. I am bone dead tired. That kind of tired that radiates out from the top of your ears and your brow and hang like a spider web, invisible to others, yet forcefully strong.
I long to be home in order to be ignored by those that love me best. I long to slip back into the humdrum to be happy to hear English and know that others understand me too.
I love visiting the Zip Lock life, where my support systems are dutifully tucked into quart and gallon sized units of pharmacy, currency, food, in-flight…
And as itchy as I get to fly, to see, to do, this travel-weary warrior is happy to touch down once again. Home again, home again, jiggity jig.