Dorm Sweet Dorm

Flew from St. John's through to Halifax, got in to Boston at five this evening.

The madre and I went to Friday's for dinner, it was lovely, but we were both exhausted. She dropped me off at school, and now I'm all unpacked and getting readjusted to normalcy.

My body is sore, for whatever reason. I'm pretty tall (I'm not short, in any event) and being cramped into a tiny little seat for over two hours (each leg of the flight was a little over an hour I believe, maybe closer to two hours each, I don't know blah) is super uncomfortable for the tall folks. While I'm trying to find my personal space and extend my feet under the seat in front of me without utterly lodging my backpack and all my worldly goods under the seat, the madre is there swinging her feet in the air like some kid waiting in the doctor's office. She said something to me tonight about how she's lucky, she isn't uncomfortable in cramped spaces.

To which I replied: Oh yeah, well at least the air I breath is fresh ahhhhh *big inhale*

And it's oh so very true. The air is fresh, but not as fresh as Newfoundland air.

It occurred to me, when coming home, that I haven't been to Canada in just about two years. I'm an American through and through, don't get me wrong, but I have roots in Canada, deep roots. It's hard when people ask me what I am, because besides being an American, and a bonafide mutt, almost all of my "ancestors" came through Canada to get here, and some opted to stay in Canada and build their lives there. None of this Ellis Island business. They walked, rode, drove, flew their way into this country (making it VERY difficult for our family to trace our roots, thanks a lot guys).

My family is spread out over two countries, and so is my heart. To know that someone hundreds or thousands of miles away loves you, misses you, thinks of you, there is nothing like it. I wish I could surround myself with my family all the time, that we could always be together. But we all have our own lives, and our own worlds.

It's good to be back in Massachusetts with the warm night air. But I miss watching the sun meet the sea, I miss my uncle's laughter, I miss hearing stories about my father, feeling like he is there with us.

Two years is too long to go without seeing them, I have decided. I just hope our economies improve (drastically) so that we will be able to see them again, at all.