there and here

A week passes more quickly than I would have thought possible: a few parties, a few conversations, a few laughs, and it is time to get back on a plane.

I am home.

I am going home.

I'm never really sure.

This is the first time I have had anything but negative feelings about returning to Universe City.

My mom and sister and I laughed until we couldn't breathe over things that no one else would think are funny. This is the problem when people talk about sense of humor: it is so unpredictable. What I think is hilarious is often only funny to my mom and sister. The three of us are a sight when we start laughing together. We fall over laughing, clutching our stomachs, silently shaking because we cannot get air. This week I wondered what happens if you pass out from laughing too hard. I assume you stop laughing once unconscious?

Some of my favorite people on earth made it here or I made it there to spend a few hours together this week. My little nephew laid on my stomach playing his leapfrog this afternoon. I tossed both kids over my head onto the couch. "They like us!" my sister and I exclaimed, after we left.

But then there are parties tomorrow night back in Universe City, and my own own bed, and my little car, and a routine into which I fit.

My heart is forever here, and forever elsewhere.