El Camino: Home

It was the longest of days.

I started my morning at 6 AM in Madrid, and ended my day at 11 PM in Kansas City. Given the seven hour time difference, I was up and moving for 24 hours. (Less the 30-ish minute nap I finally managed to grab once safely in the air on my last flight home.)

The hardest part was the time between flights in Atlanta. I was already exhausted, and was afraid I'd fall into a deep sleep at the gate and miss my flight. So, I got me some coffee, and spent 45 minutes walking up and down the length of the terminal. I was pretty out of it, but have not yet fallen asleep while walking. I figured it was a good way to both stay up and to work a few kinks out of my legs. 

That said, travel was uneventful - the best kind. The planes were almost on time, we didn't hit any awful weather, I got to watch a couple of movies and read a book. The crying baby and restless toddler were not directly behind me on the long flight from Madrid. (The parents were good, and did their best. I fully understand the desire to scream for a while after sitting for ten hours, but at my age, people are less understanding regarding outbursts like that, so I kept my opinions to myself.)

Once safely ensconced in my own bed, I startled awake several times last night, disoriented, not sure where I was. When I opened my eyes to see the familiar outlines of my bedroom around me, it took me a minute to remember how I got there. My mind, my heart, my dreams were still on the trail. 

For a moment, as I half-woke, I was afraid I'd dreamed the whole trip - that it hadn't really happened. Then I accidentally bumped my heel blister with my other ankle, promptly finished waking up (ouch!), and was happy all over again to know I successfully completed the trek.

It'll take me a few days to readjust - despite my exhaustion, I was wide awake at 5 AM - almost lunchtime in Spain. It's all good - I purposely left myself a lot of empty space in my calendar this weekend. 

Buen Camino, indeed!

Photo: People had the most interesting reaction to getting bussed across the tarmac to our plane in Madrid. Me, I felt like I'd skipped back to the fifties for ten minutes.