Where are my ruby slippers?

 I woke up today thinking, “I want to go home”. I wasn’t feeling fear or panic, not even particularly lonely,  just a longing for my own bed and my own things and my own place in the world.

I had a quick breakfast and headed out to watch a bit of today’s big Tournament de Boule (think lawn bowling French-style) in the courts below the cemetery. I have to admit it’s not too exciting especially when you don’t know anyone and you can’t tell one ball from the other. I remembered the last time I saw a game, at the Montgomery family picnic at the Prairie Oasis a few years back. I want to go home. 

When the excitement got too much for me, I pulled out my directions and headed up the mountain to Helene’s land. She has another little house on a piece of property in the hills with apple, pear, plum and fig trees. It was a wonderful climb and a beautiful place. There was even a palm tree tucked in between the fruit trees. I explored a bit, wrote in my journal, and then headed back down towards town. As I followed the path I realized it was a natural runway for water, and I thought about the first hike John and I took near Ottawa, where we nearly got eaten alive by all the flies just hatching along the streambeds. I want to go home.

I made coffee and checked my email when I got home, something I like to do to start my day. I want to go home.

I read. I napped. I did the dishes. I did some research about the beaches near Montpellier, and then I checked flights from there to London. I want to go home.

I thought about what I would do when I got home. Have I changed, or will I soon slip back into the same place I was before I left? I wondered if I am ready to actually go home- am I ‘done’ yet? How will I know if it is time to go home? Do I have to stay until September? Will I be letting myself down if I go home earlier than originally planned? Missing out on some great adventure, some important life lesson? I don’t know. 

What I do know today, is that I want to go home.