Over the past few days we had my sister with family over. It has been a fun weekend. The kind where nothing stands out exceptionally but you go to bed knowing that your life is full. Of people. Of love. Of all the good things that make you smile when you sleep.
For the first time in a long time, all of us siblings got together with spouses and walked around downtown. It was fun. It was also the first time I felt like a local. In the many years I have visited the city, I have always walked with trepidation. Like a stranger in an alien place. Always watching over my shoulder. Hurrying to the places where I wanted to go, without taking in the spirit of the place.
The last couple of visits. Specially this one made me see this city differently. I felt pride pointing out landmarks. I felt familiarity as we passed the museum. A feeling that cloaks you in comfort. A connection.
Last evening, as I drove home from work taking a detour as the back roads we take were closed for construction, I smiled to myself at the ease with which I now navigated these once alien roads. I pulled in to our driveway and felt overcome with happiness.
I was finally home.