Post-trip spoon collecting is in full effect.
I’m working from bed. The kitties are snuggling and not fighting. The sound of their purrs is soothing to me. Clean sheets on my bed and a chill in the air (from the always cracked open bedroom window) are helping to make this a good re-entry.
Sometimes I actually give myself a break. Sometimes it’s exactly what I need to recover. It’s funny how home feels like such a trap so much of the time, the last place I want to be because it’s the only place I can be. But at other times, like this, it transforms back into the paradise of safety and security that I created for myself in the year after Chuck died. This is one of those times.
I forget to be grateful for it sometimes. Not today. Today I have gratitude oozing from every pore.