Home is Where the Arch is (or, Coming Home)

After an additional week in London with my family and an incredibly exhausting day of travel (starting at 12:45 London time and ending 8:20 StL time), I’ve finally made it back home. I was even up for a continuous 24 hours. As much as I loved being in London, nothing beats being back home. I don’t think I’ve ever been so excited to walk into my own house. I even kissed my driveway when we finally made it back.

I even flew in on the most patriotic day of the year: the 4th of July. I landed at Dallas-Fort Worth International Airport (DFW), and the feeling of being on solid ground again after an 8 and a half hour flight was incredible. I was overly excited, running around shouting things like, “Look how few people are here! I have room to walk around!” and, “Look, Jamba Juice!”

As I went through customs, the officer asked me the basic questions and ended by saying, “Welcome back.” I was smiling like an idiot, reveling in all the things I had missed over the course of a month. But once I was stateside, I was ready to be home. Only one more flight stood in my way.

The flight from DFW to Lambert was pretty awful. I got fairly airsick from the constant turns the plane made, the continuous pressure changes caused my ears to get clogged up worse than normal, and I felt dizzy for a majority of the night. I flew in to see half of the city underwater from the torrential rain we’ve gotten for the past 2+ weeks. But it was still home.

Driving home, I could see fireworks being shot off from various parts of Saint Louis county. It felt like the world was celebrating me coming back home. While everyone else was downtown at Fair Saint Louis or vacationing down at the Ozarks, I was asleep in my own bed for the first time in a month.

Today, I’ve been laying on my couch binge-watching all the cartoons I’ve missed in the past month. The rest of my summer is booking up quickly, filled with Cardinals games and concerts. It finally feels like summer has begun. I can’t wait for more adventures, even if they’re at home.