Out of the Newsroom

I’ve been on the road for a few days. Not like I was once was. Back then, I was trying to be like George Clooney’s character in “Up in the Air.” My office was likely to be seat 4F in an airliner, somewhere over America.

In recent years, I’ve been more grounded, traveling only a couple of weeks a year–rather than over 40 weeks. When you travel that much, you begin to think as the road as your home. You don’t really see your permanent address as much more than a place that you empty your suitcase, get clean clothes and spend some time with those people you only talk to on the phone during the week.

So coming home on this Sunday, I was reminded how much I love our little house in the woods.

It’s not a huge house, barely two thousand square feet of three bedrooms and two baths. We’re surrounded by woods on almost all sides, only able to see glimpses of our neighbor’s houses when the trees are bare, as they are right now.

The place needs some work, probably a new coat of stain, and a new roof isn’t too far off in our future. We just spent a pretty penny to replace the heat pump, so it would be easy to see the place as a money pit masquerading as a mortgage payment.

But today, it looked like home. A place where you live life, and all that it brings. Today, a little furry dog greeted me at the door. The warmth of the place hit me as soon as the door opened and I heard the bark. (So maybe the money for the heat pump was worth it after all.) The place looked great and felt familiar.

I gave Chester the dog a hug and got a face full of licking. I know it sounds sappy, but its never been more true than today.

It’s good to be home.