i'm just a'goin' over jordan...

Siiiiiiiiiigh...

I made it out. My arrival in Houtzdale was marked by nothing extraordinary. As a matter of fact, I didn't even have a welcome party. My dad was the only one home and was on his way out the door to pick up his truck; I think he was eagerly awaiting my arrival so I could give him a ride.

I'm not sure if the ride was quite the head-clearing, personal-space-providing catharsis I was expecting. Mostly I was just driving. I wasn't struck by the feelings of separation until I was two minutes from my parents' driveway. For whatever reason, stopping at the intersection to Kendrick Road was the visual cue I needed to realize I wasn't going back next week, or next month, or any time in the immediate future. Half of my belongings (two-thirds of which were a bed and chair) fit into the bed of a pick-up and the other half had come ahead of me, to take up a new residence in my parents' basement. I wouldn't climb out of the truck to see Moo, or Mummy Dearest and her brood, Star Pilgrim, Roma, Bob, Steve, Flavio, CJ, or any of them at dinner in forty-five minutes. So the moral is, my dad had to greet and hug his sobbing 25-year-old son, trying to both console him and welcome him home.

Now I'm in Harrisburg. Some homecoming-- arrival only to head out the door 26 hours later for another trip, another commitment. My friends Heather and Jer are getting married this weekend and I'm here to help celebrate. I just hope no unexpected waves of realization and the ensuing self-pity overwhelm me during this joyous occasion.

In other news: Two weeks until I fly! So much to do! Help!