I have a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore....

I'm home.
Safe and sound.
I booked my ticket last Thursday and flew home on Sunday.
I didn't tell anyone.
I just showed up.
My mum cried, my brother jumped, and my dad laughed. I think they knew it was coming.
I haven't decided yet whether it's a good thing. Don't think I believe that I'm home yet. Sleeping in my own bed feels weird but normal. I think my cat remembers me which is good.

I caught a bus from the ferry terminal on Monday morning after spending the night at Frogirls. I couldn't stop grinning from ear to ear. The sun poured through the trees as the bus sped along the highway. I had forgotten how beautiful it is here. So gorgeous.
Because of work going on on my street, the bus dropped me off right at the bottom of my driveway. Such service.
The men working on my dad's shop must have wondered what was going on when I asked them if there was anyone home and replied 'good' to the negative answer. Must have thought they were witnessing a burglary. But then must have second guessed it when they looked at the ammount of baggage. What burglar carries a backpack, duffle bag, shoulder bag and day pack?

I sat in the living room taking things in. The new wall hanging, Grandma's clock which now sits in the living room, her barometre. Photos of me on my last day in the country before my journey. My cat sniffed my toes as if to check if it really was me.

I called my best friend up the coast who was surprised to find that I was home.
Then I stood at the top of the stairs watching the men errecting the building that will have my new bedroom in it through the hall window and waited for my mum to come home from work.

A warm feeling flooded me. Maybe it was me realising where I was, or maybe I was still tingly from my last night in Edinburgh. Maybe it was both.
But I do know one thing:
Dorothy was right.
There's no place like home.