Ready to sleep

It has been a full, rich day, though there is not much I can say about it:
-a welcome visit with dear friends
-finally NOT getting lost on the way from a loved neighborhood back to my cousin's
-dinner at a funky local restaurant:  delicious; followed by mild heartburn


Tomorrow morning, I pack up and schlepp downtown.
I pick up the shawl I left at my cousin's.  I visit my good friend who lives downtown.  I try to get to the airport to return the car before the evening traffic.
I catch the plane, G-d willing, and come home late at night.
I have loved the retreat at Isabella Freedman, and the visits with dear ones, with old friends and with new friends here, and staying with my cousin, and catching up with family.


I am very ready to go home, even as I acknowledge that I have been toying with the question of whether Philadelphia may not be my "real" home.  I am loving the dense, lush canopy of green leafy trees, the luxuriant grass, the burgeoning flowers, the smell of early morning.  My body remembers all this as precious, loved.
And for the last twenty-two years, I have been given the vast open sky, the way heat and cold are both different in a dry climate, the lean trees and the local wildlife.  (There is little possibility that bears would have visited my back yard in Philly.) 

But neighbors might have...I miss the way folks drop in on one another back East.  
In Boulder, you have to make an appointment.
I miss real neighborhoods, where you craft a warm relationship with neighbors with whom you may have nothing in common but proximity.  
In Boulder I find those relationships...polite.
And then, there's my family:  a few whom I would have treasured as friends no matter what.  Some whom I would never have known except that they are my cousins.

So this has been a rich and full trip, which leaves me with questions rather than answers.
Not a bad state in which to return home.
Good night.