Taking a brief pause from work, I am dreaming about tomorrow, when I get to go home for the weekend-- an extended weekend really. I can picture myself driving down the highway, music turned up and the windows rolled down. I get a small thrill just thinking about it. I met a husband and wife in my small group Biblestudy last night who were from Lincoln. It was great to play Dutch bingo with them (even if we're not Dutch) and see all the people we had in common. I don't get to do that very often. Mostly I watch other people connect the dots, laughing outloud because Carol is Bob's second cousin, and graduated with Helen's sister, who is married to Kevin's son. Most of our time with host families on choir tour is spent trying to see if somehow we're all related. Well, now I get to go home and pow-wow with my people for once. The distinction between outsider and insider is very interesting, I think.

Yesterday evening, I was remembering last summer, and the slow, relaxed pace of the days and nights. It was blissful, and I got a bit nostalgic. I miss being in my territory, nannying from 6am to 3 in the afternoon, and taking the rest of the afternoon to read in a coffeeshop or lay on a blanket in the grassy park near my grandma's house. Coming home and watching Wheel of Fortune with her, making a noodle casserole and eating defrosted Christmas cookies for dessert. My parents were only five minutes away, not three and a half hours. My sisters and I could go to movies together; my best friend was just down the road. My memories seem closer now than the people who mean the most to me. I wish it could have worked out to live in Lincoln again. My ideal summer. Although the ideal probably wouldn't have matched the actual experience. The hard bitter truth of life.