Sunday night at 5:00pm and I sit on my sofa travel weary from the shortest trip – but bursting with information, processing the experience that was my weekend. Not a typical weekend for me, for sure, but one that will be more common in the coming months. The weekend was long. Confusing. Brilliant. Fun. Educational. Exhausting. Full. And empty too.
I flew out early Saturday morning, ridiculously early, and spent my day meeting interesting people brimming with ideas. I reconnected with old friends. Had an amazing meal. Slept the dead sleep of travel and conference exhaustion on a rock-hard bed between cool soft sheets and then I woke early, ate leftovers from my tiny hotel fridge, had a single serving coffee, and it was off to the airport. An airplane. Another airport.
Back to home base. To my kid. The grocery store. An orange note on my door from the city letting me know my water is off due to construction and won’t be back on until after 6pm. Dirty dishes I left in my sink. Whining cats, indignant that they were left behind. A warm friendly voice on the phone. Nap time in my own bed. Polka dot pajama pants.
And to a new knowledge. A realization that I am the kind of mom who comes back from a business trip and decides that it’s quite alright to serve my daughter ice cream for dinner while we watch Doctor Who on the sofa, just as long as she has chicken pot pie for dessert.
I’m good with it.