We are holed up in the transit area in KL. Half way through our journey home, we are also between time zones, as is everyone else. We had muesli for dinner; I guess we’ll have dinner for breakfast. Heading to the lift, on the way to the lounge, a British man said Good Morning to me. In the lift an American man gave me a glazed smile. He left at level one. Good night he said. In Malaysia it is 8 am. We are all time zone zombies.
Only another twelve hours til we are home. I am more than ready to re-enter my life again. I miss my boys like oxygen. I miss my dogs. I miss my life. I miss my home. I miss my work.
I left New Zealand with a nervous friend, a suite of Pollyanna intentions and, I’m not going to lie to you, a wounded heart of my own.
A lot of ‘releasing’ has occurred in the last two weeks. Stuart has released into fatherhood and all the gruesome glorious realities of loving that big. And, in the process of witnessing the purity of that, I’ve very gently let a big love go.
Two altered realities; there’s a result.