Maybe I really do want to be home after all.

I used to love to travel. Maybe I'm just getting old. I don't know. I had hoped coming to see my brother would help relieve some stress for me, or distract me. I will say, I've been distracted, but it's been stressful. It's hard on Aubrey to be away from her home and her daddy. She gets overly stimulated and tired and into everything, which stresses me out. Plus then I feel pulled in 12 directions when I am here and feel obligated to go visit a hundred and one different people when all I wanna do is lay down somewhere and stare off into oblivion. This was not the place for that. So, oddly enough, I'm looking forward to going home. Back to my cave. At least its mine. I miss my husband too. I miss the shelter from life's storm. There is just too much petty drama in the outside world, and lumping that on top of my already fragile state of mind is not good. They say trouble follows wherever you may go. Grief does too, but instead of being my shadow like it is at home, it's curled its self up and burrowed deep into my pocket, forgotten about by everyone but me. Where it is hidden from the real world, but my fingers are constantly fondling it. I can't ignore it, and I can't leave it alone since I feel it everywhere I go. But, at least I haven't been a pile of tears.
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