London Gatwick airport was surprisingly peaceful yesterday when we landed around 8:30 in the morning. I hauled a still-sleeping Stephen in the sling plus our two carry-on bags of rocks books and other onboard entertainment onto my shoulders and humped my way off the plane to the airport bathroom. I’d made the mistake of adhering strictly to the size guidelines and didn’t bring my small carry-on with wheels. Of course, most other passengers didn’t bother with small details like that and coasted along the airport concourse. Drat my rule-following ways.

The bathroom stop took longer than I’d expected because I had to change Stephen’s wet underpants. Then, I rushed to the immigration counters where I was lucky enough to be ushered to the head of the already short line because I had a “little one” with me. Immigration was no trouble and customs even less so; no long forms to fill out or put-upon immigration and customs agents giving us the evil eye. With all the terrorism alerts this month, I’d expected mobs but it was actually much better here in London than in San Francisco.

Jetlag is so bad this time we were asleep from 3 pm to 6 pm the first afternoon, went to bed at 11 pm but woke up at 3 am to a tearful Stephen missing his grandma, aunt, and California in general, played until 6 am at which time we crashed until the early afternoon. There are still suitcases to unpack, laundry to wash, and a garden and house to clean. Not to mention work to do.

We loved the change of pace in California but are equally glad to be back in our own familiar home again, which is just a little more cluttered with toys, clothes, books, and snacks. It’ll be a while before we long to see the inside of a Walmart, Target, Toys R Us, or Costco. I think I visited those stores (different locations) a total of 30 times in three weeks.

Eight years ago, I followed Marv on his overseas postings to four different countries–Taiwan, Japan, Vietnam, and UK–and with each trip back “home,” much of what I miss about the U.S. seems less wonderful. Hardly anything is as good as I remember it (except the shopping). I hope it’s not because I’ve become more jaded, although that’s probably part of it. But I’ll never cease to miss my family and friends.

I’ve accepted my life for what it is wherever I happen to be. Wishing I were someplace else won’t accomplish anything. While I’d happily move back to the U.S. or, even better, the San Francisco Bay Area if the right opportunities presented themselves, I no longer need to live there. I can be happy anywhere even though I’m always flying off and leaving loved ones behind.

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