The return

We join our hero (me) as he returns to New York City from his (really) long weekend in the Boston area. After five days (and six nights) in a not familiar bed with a not familiar pillow and a not familiar teddy bear, he's happy to be back atop a five story walk-up with the things he's grown comfortable with over the last few months -- and the teddy bear he's grown up with for the past 22 years (plus 8 days).

This break was more morbid than most (read: any previous) with the most discussion of mortality with illness in the family and death out of it. It was the most stressful with the most work to do yet and the least actually accomplished. It was, of course, the most enjoyable in other ways with our hero's nieces both at an age old enough to walk and talk and intelligently interact -- the elder of the two in complete conversation (and ability to take herself to the bathroom...) to the point of actually being really fun people.

It could be the return to the city or it could be the escape from family, but he gains a noticeable bounce in his step every time he returns. Sure the four flights up are deadly after a week without them and his stamina is shot, and sure he doesn't want to have to go to class or deal with rush-hour commutes (or non-rush hour commutes, for that matter), but it's still nice to be back. So he won't be able to talk on the phone while climbing the stairs for another few days, but that's a small price to pay for a rejuvenation and that extra bounce. (Oh, how he worries about a longer break in January.)

The bottom line: as nice as it is to get away, it's made even nicer when it means coming back.

And thus concludes my third-person self-reference.