Re-Entry Notes: Tuesday's Reflection

What's your routine when you return home after being on vacation 
for days or even weeks? After a twelve day road trip to attend a niece's wedding in Vermont and also spend times with our kids in Cleveland and friends in the Boston area, we returned home early last week. I am basically a homebody and oh, how wonderful it was to cross the threshold of our sweet little house.

My husband and I both do well with the initial re-entry tasks: unloading the car, unpacking our bags and treasures acquired along the way, doing the laundry, sorting the mail and paying bills. That first afternoon I even went grocery shopping. 

But then the resettlement slowed down. 

During my morning meditation time, which had been hit and miss during our time away, my mind wandered to the back roads we had travelled: the fields of sunflowers in Indiana, the white steepled churches nestled in hills of small towns, the hints of fall color, the front porches of farmhouses, the barns, somehow elegant in their architecture. And mums and pumpkins everywhere. 

I was more there than here. 

Plus, I thought about all the good conversations we had with loved ones: our son's new job and also development of his own design business (Both Feet Designs); our daughter-in-love's growing expertise and presence in her work; fill in the blanks conversations with many dear to us. And, of course, all the happy talk focusing on the bride and groom. 

A good time.

While on the trip I divorced myself from my laptop (brought it, but only opened it once) and Facebook and email, only checking occasionally to make sure there wasn't something that needed immediate attention. I have yet to return to Facebook.

But once home, it was time to resume writing in this blog.  I intended to write a new post for last Thursday, but that clearly did not happen. Instead of writing, I bought pumpkins and decorated for fall. I rearranged my closet, moving from summer to fall. I sat in the snug and read one of the many books I bought on the trip in two excellent independent bookstores (Concord Bookshop in Concord, MA, and Phoenix Bookstore in Rutland, VT). I wrote thank you notes and got out soup recipes. 

I was more there than here. 

Shortly before leaving on our trip I outlined a new structure for my book on my dryerase board, and I was eager to start the revision process. I assumed I could jump right back when I got home. Wrong! For several hours on two different afternoons last week I sat with my hands poised over the keyboard. I looked at notes about possible changes. I deleted a few words in an opening chapter and changed the tense from present to past, but that was it. I stared at the dry erase board. Nothing. 

Finally, I read a post in a writing blog I receive once a week from the author and teacher, Mary Carroll Moore.

            The book disappears from your consciousness after
            three days so you might not be able to spend the 
            next writing session actually moving forward. You
            may be spending half your time reacquainting 
            yourself with the book.

Duh! I had been unconnected from my book not for just three days, but for almost two weeks. "Give yourself a break, Nancy," I told myself. "This is going to take awhile."

Here's what occurs to me: not only did I need to reacquaint myself with my book, but after separation from home, I needed to reacquaint myself with my life here, my surroundings, my normal routines. I realize not everyone has that luxury, and I certainly remember the days when we returned from a vacation one day and the next day we were back to work. That is not true for my life now during these Third Chapter years. 

I can take my time. I can enjoy the re-entry process, as much as the time spent seeing new views and being with friends and family we don't see often enough. I can consciously integrate the gifts of those days into these first days back home.

I can be there and here at the same time. 

An Invitation
How do you handle re-entry? What is easy and what takes a bit more effort? I would love to know.