It’s time to go home, and I must say, I’m pretty ready to sleep in my own bed. Road trips are different, and sometimes it’s three days and you’re done, and other times, you’ve been gone for two weeks, and you aren’t ready to leave.

There is a nice mixture here between the desire to stay and the desire to go.

I’m exhausted from being in the car, and I’m really not looking forward to getting that plane off the ground and safely landed (using only the armrests), but I am enjoying being around those I care about..

..If only I could sleep in my own bed and not have to share it with some random dog with nasty breath.

Lo, and behold, in Memphis, there is a Harley souvenir shop in the terminal. I have a little time to kill so I pick out a couple of shirts.

Proceeding to the gate I see my flight has been delayed by about, ohhh, two hours, presenting me the prospect of getting home about 2 in the morning.

I sigh deeply, call my ride and say guess what, and he sighs deeply and says go get something to eat.

Across from the gate is a bbq joint, and I go in and order the pulled pork sandwich, extra sauce, with sweet potato fries and sweet tea.They really don’t know how to make sweet tea where I live. As I finish eating, I hear them make the flight’s initial boarding call.

I cross to the check-in counter and listen to passengers pissing and moaning because they had to hurry to get to the airport since the flight was leaving on time. People baffle me.

We’re up. We’re landing. I’ve got my bag, I’m out the door. There’s my car, there’s my ride, and soon there’s my bed. I’ve stopped long enough to jerk clothes out of the closet to wear to work the tomorrow. (Or is it later today?)

I can finally close my eyes, and remember why I live where I live, even if they don’t know how to make sweet tea or chicken fried steak.