It's that time again. Travel weariness sets in.
For some a week, others a year. Me - nearing the last week of 2 months.
In the last 2 months:
I haven't slept in the same bed for more than 7 days.
I had my heart thoroughly touched and shattered by the same person.
I've lost money. Saved money. Received lodging and meals for free.
I had my purse stolen. In it was my wallet from my protege student who's all grown up now. In the wallet was the 2 dollar bill that my oldest friend wore in her wedding as her something borrowed. I'd carried it for 16 years before that and was her maid of honor.
I went home for the first time in a year.
I saw the way New Yorkers practice kindness, which is different from the way Quebecers show it.
I even missed Los Angeles for a moment or two. (fuck)
I'm in my last Canadian city, debilitated by allergies, dehydrated from so many plane, train and road miles, dazzled by the view from the skyscraper apartment.
I've been cursed by 50 chigger bites, put 5 people on Periscope - many for the first time.
And I'm blessed. And I know it at last.