Coming Home

Tuscany Girl is no longer in Tuscany, and is not sure whether to laugh or cry about it. When we landed in Washington I was perfectly ready to hop on a plane heading back across the Atlantic (as much to avoid customs as to get back to Italy). Once I got off the plane in RDU, however, I discovered the joys that the familiar always hold, even in an airport. I just about waltzed up to the big flat-screen TV to give Greg Fishel a hug, I was so happy to see his quizzical face behind those round glasses. I also have a new appreciation for the good old South. Strangers smiled, people held doors open, and two guys offered to help me with my luggage. And of course, the accents. Just about everybody has one!
Christian nearly had his head squeezed off when he found me with my forlorn pile of luggage. On the way home it was hard to imagine that I’d been away for more than a week or so. We got home to the end of a riotous Christmas party (which was supposed to be over by the time I got there, but thanks to standby I made it to NC at a reasonable hour). I don’t believe I’ve ever hugged so many people in such a short time in my life. Everybody vanished fairly quickly, for which I must admit I was grateful. I hadn’t slept in a bed for forty hours, more or less, and was beyond frazzled. After that I had a little time to digest how much was different. The living room was painted a gorgeous golden color, the library furniture rearranged, the floors refinished. I’m still discerning how my family has changed…all that’s obvious right now is that Curt has grown a few more inches and that Tiffany has become outrageously articulate for a three-year-old. Suddenly I felt as if I’d been gone for three years instead of three months. Nothing has changed, but everything is different.
The next day I began to really appreciate home. We ate a marvelous breakfast of pancakes and sausages and eggs, and I thought I had died and gone to heaven. I love feeling the warmth of the wood stove on my back with my cat on my lap, listening to the rain drumming on the green tin roof, or singing along while other people play music. So much of home I didn’t even realize that I missed!
After living so long out of a single suitcase, the abundance of everything astounds me. I literally fell over laughing when I opened my closet. I couldn’t have been happier had I been given an entire department store. And our library! The shelves are crammed with books in English! All my favorites are still there waiting for when my system adjusts to the time change and I am awake enough to spend my evenings by the fire with Jane Eyre or Jean Valjean or—as the days count down until Christmas—Ebenezer Scrooge and Bob Cratchit.
I’m expecting to have a bit more trouble with reverse culture shock when I actually get out of the house, but for now, the Stith home is a great place for a little cultural decompression—and soul food!