As much as I love to travel, there are some things you just can’t get anywhere else but at home.
For me, that list is fairly concise and to the point: There’s those animal- and protein-style In-N-Out Double-Double burgers (with animal-style fries—well done, of course) that I crave every time I come back from a long trip (Photo © ItsNekkidTime.com; don't fret—this is a fitness blog that links to an article extolling the virtues of a protein-style burger from In-N-Out).
And that mild-to-the-point-of-boring L.A. weather—almost always 72 degrees, sunny and/or partly cloudy. (BTW, anything that deviates from that is classified as a “Storm Watch” or “Heat Wave,” almost immediately and without hesitation.
Oh, and the ability to wear flip-flops and/or jeans with everything and still be considered somewhat dressy. (Definitions of “formal” or “business casual” attire are completely relative here in L.A.)
And, of course, there’s also the stuff that I absolutely detest about home, of which congested traffic would be at the top of that list.
But more than these things, I’ve also come to the realization that there are other less tangible but even more fulfilling things that no place else but home can ever provide.
This point was made even clearer to me this past week, when I found out that my weeklong trip to Germany had been permanently cancelled (thanks a lot, Eyjafjallajokull). I was so looking forward to the trip but I’m also thankful to be able to spend the week at home with my dearest family and friends. This is especially true as I make that dreaded march toward turning one year older. Ugh.
For me, it’s a comfort knowing that I’ve got a wonderful home life to return to from wherever I may be traveling to. More often than not though, I tend to forget about that, just like Dorothy did in “The Wizard of Oz.” (Photo © TheDailyPump.com)
But, since I’m getting all introspective (blame it on the getting older), I think you really only start to realize just how important home is when you’re not there. In a strange way, that makes it one of the best parts about traveling—it gives you something to compare your travels to, something to look forward to and, in some cases, something to run away from, even.
Home for me, however, is something that I love—for better and for worse—and I’m sure I’ll miss it whenever it is I take my next flight.