Hawaii: The Epilogue, Or...

There wasn't time for anything in Portland Friday morning other than getting on the plane, and that was fine with me.  I've been to Portland many times and all I wanted to do, all I could think about was going HOME.  I drank a lot of caffeine on the flight in preparation for my drive from Boise to home.  Once off the plane, it felt like it took ages to get my bag and then for me to walk to the back forty to where I'd parked my car.  But once I'd paid for parking, I just got on the freeway and drove.

When I got to my parents' house, everyone was still gone for the day.  I picked up my dogs, who didn't even need to be told "load up", and headed home.  This is how we roll (the stink hounds and I): the dogs must remain in the backseat, Sully sits behind me and I lower the window enough so she can put her head out of it, while Libby sits in what a good friend termed "the navigator position" with her head placed on the console in between the seats.

We were driving along, listening to music from "Glee" or something, me petting Libby as she snuggled her head against me, and I realized I'd driven into Rupert.  For a few moments I had no idea how to get to my house.  I was just in this state of bliss of being back home with my doggies, knowing I was going to see my family in an hour or so, and I had forgotten everything.  I pulled over and had to do a manual reboot of my brain.

When we were having car trouble back at the banana bread stand the cab driver remarked to me that my friend had really been zapped, but I hadn't been zapped.  I responded, "That's because I already know where I belong."

This is my favorite picture of "where I belong".  I took it this past summer.  I may not always be here, but for now, this is it:

Libby & Sully playing in the drain ditch, June 2010