We have been back home for over a week now, and I’m well settled into my old routines that make home what it is. Jon is up north with his parents, seeing his nephew who has been growing quickly while his uncle is a thousand miles away. My own daughter Karina attends school in Boston, and I call and text and email, but hi-tech fails to ease the heartache, and I will find a way to see her soon. Ian is happily in his day-to-day with his girlfriend, who missed him terribly while we were on the road. Good for you, Ian. Jon and I gave him a hard time about the long calls in the night, but in the end, we were jealous. As my mom said while my smiling little dog Ali helped me unpack, it’s always nice to be home.

We rolled well over 2,000 miles during our arduous two weeks, both on the bike and in Nola, and the road became our home away from home. We each settled into our own territory on the bus, and before long, the confusion of clothes, gear, and endless cables and wires that connected us with the world taught us tolerance and patience, and became a comfort in its own right as well. The roads we traveled took us to people who loved to see us, and some who shared their stories. We moved on with confidence and excitement, and looked ahead to where tomorrow’s road would take us.

The entire route had been planned in advance. We needed no map for the road home. Biloxi, Mobile, Tallahassee, Tampa. Home. Perhaps someone who lived in New Orleans on August 29, 2005, and has not returned home, is still looking for the map with the return route clearly marked. Four years, two months, and nineteen days later. Does anyone have that map?

This entry was posted on Tuesday, November 17th, 2009 at 10:07 am. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.