Home is where the heart is

My brief and crazy trip to Colorado was awesome. We partied and talked as much as we could in such a short time. The time also served purpose as "doggy boot camp" for my sisters puppy and one more opportunity to create flexible children. It is weird being a visitor in the house we used to live in. It has gone back and forth between owners and now it is in it's rightful hands. Even though I could remember the long hours of painting the walls and tired moments staring at the celling, it certainly wasn't our place anymore.
In between all the parties and prep I got a much needed hour or so with a dear friend too and was reminded that good friends can always pick up where you left off, even friendship can grow deeper as you realize what you have in them.
I love Colorado, the mountains, my family, 11 years of growing and great memories. In the back of my mind I was worried I would realize how much I missed it all and would feel miserable going back to Missouri.
The journey back to the airport was a crazy adventure and one event just led to another. The luggage got loaded in the car last minute, gas was needed to make it DIA and then a need to help a sweet spirit. Adam, a special needs friend has been a part of different areas of the Springs since I can remember. At church, Wal-mart, and at the local YMCA. As we were making our way out of town we noticed him walking around with a very bloody face. We immediately dialed 911 and swung around to make sure he was okay. He was confused and we did our best to help him. The firemen had no better luck calming him than us and my dad stayed to try to help until he ran off. Thankfully, as we were filling up the car we could see that the ambulance finally arrived and they were able to sedate him and get him the help he needed. After those delays we hit Denver traffic, but seemed to make it to DIA in time. After trying to say good-bye with as few of tears as possible, we got checked in and ready to head through security. Of course, I made a wrong turn and took the long way to the elevator, which is were I finally realized I left the DVD player in the car. Crap! By this point my parents were a ways away but, because I really needed it, they turned around. To kill time I changed diapers and tried to use the bathroom myself, but everyone else felt the need to use the handicap stalls which also can serve as stroller/mommy bathroom. Oh well. After we got the DVD player I still had 35 mins to get to our gate. One wrong line after the other, no help for a mom with two babies, testing the water in the sippy cup my daughter was drinking (I mean really!) running, sweating, pushing stroller, holding two year old, Terminal C gate 48 the LAST of the LAST! (no joke- see for yourself) I missed it, I missed the plane! I wanted to cry, no, actually, I did cry. I sobbed! In front of the poor airline worker. I know I did my best, I prayed all the way when I thought I might miss it, but nope. The plane had just pushed away and there was nothing they could do. As I stood there miserably, the airline worker took my tickets and said at 3:55 I could get tickets for the 5:55 flight. Ironic. 5:55 was the time I was supposed to be home.
Hmm, I was surprised when that's what I called it, but that is exactly what it has become. More so than ever, I just wanted to be home.
Well, we did it. I was nervous enough about dealing with a one and two year old on an airplane, but we handled the 3 hour additional wait and the flight that took us well into bedtime danger zone. It was as smooth as it could be, certainly moments that tested my patience and opportunities to mold my daughters' wills.
There was nothing like the moment of walking into my husband's arms knowing we had survived it all.
In my time away and through the trials to get back, I realized that I had learned the meaning of "home is where the heart is." I will be okay here, more than okay. I have my husband and my girls. We have a full life and it is a blessing to make memories and adventures in a new place.