4-3-2008 00:23 a.m.
Ugg...it's night number two for me in the Raleigh-Durham area.
To give that to you in different terms, I've eaten out for six meals straight. I've been lost on the roads here today on three seperate occasions. I have used five different toilets, showered twice in a stall not my own, and dressed from a duffel bag twice. Travel, when not with loved ones, is oddly painful--like the way I imagine an invalid feels when reaching for an itchy missing limb.
The trip has not been purely awkward. I've found some strange beauty in a business park surrounded by a forest. I've watched a mother Canadian goose, who built a nest out of pine needles in a work parking lot defend her choice of location. I've seen green leaves peeking out of hundred year old live oaks, pink wisteria braving the stark boles of the denuded trees, and heard the night chorus of spring frogs against a backdrop of stars and points of far off city lights. I've met some fine folks and I am getting valuable training to foster more knowledge of all things NetApp. The beauty and the business are hand in hand here.
It's past midnight in this tri-city of trees and no mountains, and I need to sleep. I am missing Melissa and the kiddles something fierce right now, and they're too many miles away. I just want to put the kids to bed with songs, slip into my sweat bottoms, and go to sleep with Melissa's feet tucked right on top of mine.
North Carolina is lonely tonight.
We fly out after training wraps up on Friday. We'll be sprinting for the door after 3:30 pm Eastern Daylight, driving to the airport with our bags in the back seat, and dropping off the rental car (all in one breath) while making for the check-in counter. A quick Delta flight to Cincinnati, where I'll eat something healthy (I swear it), and then home home home to the mountains and the dry air--the stunted trees and my babies, and my babe.
Oh Lord, hear my prayer and get me home. I know that can't happen this instant, but maybe I can go home in my mind for just a few hours tonight--to the front room where Hyrum and Maddy have been all morning watching PBS, and the pillows are everywhere. They'll have scattered bits of crayola'd notebook paper, along side their empty sippy cups holding leftover traces of chocolate-strawberry milk from breakfast. Miles will be laying on his play place and smiling like he wants to grab and hug everything, and Melissa will be there with her smile and her eyes and her smell will surround me.
That's what I want. That's where I belong. And Lord, that's where I wish I were tonight.