If you are curled up in a pajama-clad ball on your cozy purple sofa, reliving the memories of the past week as you sift through photos and unpack your suitcase. All the while feeling so so tired, having gotten home at 3:30am Boston time and then back up again at 6:30am SoCal time to get the kiddoes off to school (note: though most of what I did was just redirecting their attention to their tasks as I sat on the LR floor and just enjoyed home and chatted with Mom about the week).
If this is you then you are marveling that a week can be so short and yet so long. That your life is forever altered from having walked the streets of history and having communed with such awesome friends. But at the same time knowing that the very most important moment of it all was when you walked into the kiddoes’ room and reached out and held their warm soft hands, hardly able to wait until they would wake up in the morning so you could see their smiles once again.
This photo by John shows me in tourist-mode: the camera like a prosthetic on my hand, reaching out to document all that I saw, such as in this moment in the Granary Burying Ground. I like the way my upper arm muscles are looking all strong in this photo :)