back home

Got home from Fairbanks yesterday. Flew to Alaska via Las Vegas, which was a little strange, but the high comedy came when I had to change planes - and terminals - there. To go from one terminal to another in Vegas you have to go outside and catch a bus. There wasn't much time between flights, so I had to dash like mad, wearing full winter woolies and big clompy Canadian snowboots, past folks in shorts and sandals. Missed the connections on the way there and spent a night on the floor of the Anchorage airport, awakened by a security guard who said I was close to being considered a security risk.

So it was good to get home yesterday, to my little house where the gardens will soon be full of flowers. As I unlocked the door, I thought of all the people I have met who can't go home - because their house has been bombed, or because the husband still lives there and he's dangerous, or because they lost their job and their home disappeared with it. The ability to go home is a gift that can never be taken for granted.