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The Green Green Grass of Home. (When exactly?)

August 18, 2016

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When are you finally home, after a long trip?

Is it when you first glimpse a familiar landmark from a plane window?

Is it when the wheels of the plane touch tarmac?

Is it when the door of the plane opens and you start breathing air that hasn’t been carried with you from thousands of miles away?

Is it when you sniff real air, rather than just airport air?

Is it when you spot the first actual human that you know walking the streets of the town where you live?

Is it when you open your own front door?

Is it when the last of your bags is inside?

Is it when you go through your accumulated mail and relax discovering that none of it contains a court summons?

Is it when your digestive system starts to adapt to the time zone you actually live in?

Is it when you start going to bed and getting up in the morning at roughly the same time as the people who live either side of you?

Or is it when the airline finally locates the bag they lost which contains your most precious and expensive purchases and gets their act together enough to send it back to you?

I’m not home yet.

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