In Praise of Coming Home

Every good adventure ends the same way: you start fantasizing about your own pillow. I’ve noticed it after backpacking trips, camping trips, road trips, and international trips, solo, with friends, and with family. You don’t feel cheated. You didn’t “see everything,” and the world carried on without your review. You’re simply ready for your own bed and your own routine. This trip was no different. My wife tapped out a couple of days before we landed. I held out until the day before. Our daughter, Aiki, delivered her verdict somewhere over the Atlantic: she was ready to be home. Three votes, no dissent, and not a single recount. We walked in late on a Wednesday night, wrecked. Then, after two or three days of jet-lag purgatory, something odd happened. We both felt better. More energy. More patience. A newfound ability to meet whatever the workday threw at us without flinching. At work, I stepped back into projects I’d left mid-flight and flagged a few things within two days that I’d…