Home?

There’s something about a place you called home for many years. When you go back, you know the roads, the shortcuts, the scenery. It’s familiar … but not.

We lived inside the I495 beltway around Washington DC for several years. We traveled from all three DC area airports for years. We commuted into the city. We drove to the suburbs to visit friends and family. We wandered hundreds of miles around the area.

Recently I found myself in a rental car cruising the streets of Northern Virginia after a weekend visit to see family. Traffic was lighter than it had been, but the government is still recovering from the covid telework scene, so that was no surprise.

I visited my dad’s grave at Arlington National Cemetery and took the local route to the airport to catch my flight home. It was, again, familiar … but signs of construction block certain views and indicate the ever- changing nature of things.

As with most major cities, shopping and other things you can do to kill time don’t really open until 10, so I opted to waste away a few hours in the airport lounge. I arrived, checked in and found myself appreciating the comfort and familiarity.

There’s a calming easiness to knowing the ins and outs of where you are. The view of the Potomac in a sunny, pre-summer day is welcome. The airport buzz somehow cozies up to the buzz of politics that permeates the air in the DC area.

I’ll be home in time for dinner. In the meantime …

There’s a whole world out there just waiting to be explored. Sometimes the exploration is more of a reacquaintance than an adventure.

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